


Bella Rosa

by amproof



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amproof/pseuds/amproof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Adam, unseen for a decade, has long been rumored dead, and the otherworldly wails that come from the castle seem like proof to the provincial townspeople. Kris Allen has no time for rumors, busy as he is with his family's restaurant, Bella Rosa. However, when he must sneak onto palace grounds for a precious ingredient, misfortune leads him to a man who won't show his face and broadcasts overwhelming loneliness.</p><p>Prince Adam turned his back on his duties and his heart a decade ago, but the unexpected arrival of a man who doesn't judge his appearance--aided a great deal by Lord Brad forcing Kris to be blindfolded at all times--has caused Adam to ease out of his comfort zone. Even a hermitage as large as a castle can become too small. Too long he's hidden in the dark, and now, with this offering of solace and friendship Kris gives him, Adam wonders if he can reveal his true identity at last.</p><p>Art by akavertigo<br/><b>Link to art master post:</b> http://the-kitchen-ink.livejournal.com/35918.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella Rosa

**Title:** Bella Rosa  
**Author:** **Artist:** **Word count:** 29,792  
**Rating:** R  
**Warnings** some sexy times, reference to body issues, misuse of soup pots, clipboard-wielding Brad. **Betas and acknowledgments:** Huge thank you to my betas untamedfilly and sbb23 and for keeping me motivated and doing a great job whipping this thing into shape. Couldn't have done it without you! Also, shout out to everyone at for being tons of fun and chockfull of encouragement and wondrous gifs. And a special thank you to for doing the art. I didn't think anyone would claim it and then you stepped in with the enthusiasm of Thor fighting off the legions to snap it up. Much love!  
**Note:** Written for Kradambigbang, from a 1st round Harlequin Kradam prompt by Moirardian that originally came from a book synopsis. Summary is adapted from the original. I have not read the book that inspired this, which is itself a m/f Beauty and the Beast adaptation, with food.  
**Note 2:** I fudged Kris and Adam's age difference for fic logic purposes.  


 

 

 

Kris reached behind his back to steady his guitar as he hurried down the cobblestone steps alongside the castle walls. He didn’t pay any attention to the mold growing between the gray stones in various shades of green as he ran his fingers along the wall. The route from the small music college where he gave guitar lessons to his family’s restaurant was so familiar that short of something jumping out in front of him, he could do it with his eyes closed.

_“Prince Adam sighted!”_

Kris reeled backwards, away from the teenager in a newsboy’s cap who had leapt in front of him. “Huh?” He blinked and shook off the shock of the interruption.

The boy brandished a newspaper at him. The headline blared what he had shouted. Kris looked up at the castle. From his position so close to the wall the only part he could see was the very top of one of the turrets, pointing an accusing arrow at the overcast sky. When Kris was younger, he would sit in his bedroom, which was in a house on a hill just above the city with a direct view of the castle and its grounds, and stare down at it. He imagined what it would be like to be allowed to go there and play with Prince Adam. He knew that some children did. A few of his classmates had come back talking about how Prince Adam had a dollhouse in his room that was an exact replica of the castle, right down to the little plastic fish in the garden pond and toy people that looked like the royal family. Kris had never been invited to go. He never did figure out what was so special about the other children.

But then Prince Adam had closed the doors on the castle. It happened around his sixteenth birthday. Some said that he had been rejected by a woman. Others said that it was a man. But the one fact remained that no one had seen the prince since that day when the bolt slid home on the door that marked the single opening in the wall. Ten years ago almost to the day. Not many people remembered the exact day. They might remember it in approximations, by recalling how old they were at the time, or how old their children were. 

Kris remembered it because he had been walking along the wall, and had passed the door at the moment the scrape and clunk of the bolt locked the prince inside. Of course, he hadn’t known at the time what the motion would come to mean, so it was probably more accurate to say that he remembered the day not for the door closing, but for the moment before. It was still a hair’s width ajar; he had seen a sliver of a pale face, ginger hair and a portion of a blue eye looking out. Kris had started to hurry, trying to reach the door before it closed. He was fourteen, still young enough to be excited about playing in the castle grounds, and he was certain if he could just reach the prince in time, Prince Adam would let him in and they could spend the day running around the gardens that Kris had memorized from his bedroom window. 

Prince Adam had looked right at him. Kris was sure of it, even though he couldn’t see more than a corner of his eye. He grinned and broke into a run.

And the door closed.

Kris had stared at it for a good minute. He had kicked it, which hurt his toe more than it hurt the two-foot thick block of wood. Part of him had wanted to yell that he just wanted to come in and play, but he knew he was too old for outbursts like that. Besides, the prince was undoubtedly long gone. Kris had kicked the door again, gentler this time, then continued towards the restaurant.

He told his mother what had happened and waited expectantly for her to confirm his belief that Prince Adam was a jerk for slamming the door in his face. It wasn’t until she asked him why he thought the prince was closing the door himself instead of having his groundsman do it that Kris realized something was seriously wrong and he had witnessed it. 

With each passing day that the prince remained in the castle, Kris became more certain that was the case. The prince’s parents, King Eber and Queen Leila, had arrived, coming down from the royal palace that was their official home, but had left that same afternoon and were portrayed in the newspaper photos looking sober. They returned from time to time, sometimes with their younger son Prince Neil. Each time, photographers waiting at the gate captured departing expressions just as serious as the ones they’d worn on that first visit. 

When he turned his thoughts to it and forced himself to choose from the rumors presented, Kris joined in the common belief that the singing that sometimes wafted over the town and up into the window where Kris lay abed belonged to the prince. He stopped short of agreeing or disagreeing with the notion that it was Prince Adam's ghost, but he heard pain in those long notes, sorrow perhaps, neglect..., all emotions that he believed the prince to feel, based on that fleeting moment when he had looked into Prince Adam's eyes as he had closed the castle grounds door for the last time. 

Now, ten years later, with rumors running rampant daily, a claim that he had been seen was the most shocking of all. The newspapers would print that he was mad, or dressed as a commoner to sneak out at night via underground tunnels, or was deformed in some way that wasn’t obvious upon first glance but which had frightened his intimates and was the source of his embarrassment. Or they would speculate on his "death kept secret." But they could not print that he had been seen. 

Because he hadn’t been. Not in ten years. 

Kris snatched the newspaper, suddenly unsteady in his desire to see for himself. He unfolded it to show the entire picture. A single glance and he thrust it back at the boy, who put his arms up and took a step away.

“You touch it, you buy it, mister.”

“It’s a picture of a shadow. It could be anyone. It could be a woman. You can’t even tell where it was taken.”

The boy shrugged and held his palm out. “Fifty pence.”

Muttering ‘shit’ under his breath, Kris paid him.

“Ta,” the boy said and ran off. 

Kris uttered a brief prayer asking forgiveness for cursing and resumed his walk. His phone went off, so he tucked the paper under his arm to answer it.

“Get your butt here now, moron. Mom is freaking out.” Despite his words, Daniel sounded as easy-going as ever. To him, ‘moron’ was a term of endearment. Kris had long ago learned to put up with this and other symbols of ‘affection’, such as headlocks and arm punches that held nothing back, from his more outgoing younger brother. Daniel could be overwhelming sometimes, but Kris knew that when it came down to it, his brother would have his back and vice versa. 

“What’s wrong?” Even though Daniel _sounded_ calm, that didn’t mean the situation wouldn’t warrant panic. In fact, it usually meant that it _did_.

“Cowell’s coming tomorrow. Mom’s insisting we redo the whole menu for him since his last review wasn’t so hot. She’s terrified if he gives another bad review, we’re done.”

“I wouldn’t say three and half stars was bad, Daniel,” Kris said. This was a workable situation. Not panic mode.

There was a pause from his brother. Kris wasn’t sure if it was for Daniel to take in what was being said or if he was waiting for Kris to. Prior to Cowell’s hiring as the premiere food critic in town, Bella Rosa had been rated four stars, a designation which brought patrons through the doors and pride to everyone in the family. With the rating drop, the people still came, but Kris learned just how much that half-star had meant to his mother, who came from a restaurant background herself. An uncle that Kris had never met had operated a restaurant in Paris and, according to his mother, it had been unmatched in food, decor and service and her reason for wanting a restaurant of her own. Kris had grown up cooking alongside her. At twelve, he ran the kitchen for the first time for a room of hungry patrons. Now, he did it every night. Kris had never questioned what he would do with his life. Yes, he had been born into the business, but it was more than that. To Kris, it was a calling.

“Just get here,” Daniel said.

“I’m five minutes away.”

“Okay.” That seemed to calm him some. “And I got you a girl.”

“A what?” He stumbled as he hurried over the uneven cobblestone. Shit. (Another prayer for that.) Ever since Kris had told Daniel that he was too busy to even think about dating, ‘eligible bachelor’ or not, Daniel had taken it upon himself to become Kris’s personal matchmaker. Unfortunately, his methods typically involved dragging Kris up to an unsuspecting young woman and saying something along the lines of, “This is my brother Kris. He’s young, employed and fertile. And he can cook.” Daniel would add this last bit as if he were confiding a great secret to her and was as smug as could be.

“A girl. Long hair, boobs, high-voice. You know. A _girl_?”

“I know what a girl is. What do you mean you ‘got me one’? You didn’t... Daniel, did you...?”

“No, I didn’t pay for her. She came in with her parents for dinner. And she is smo-king! If you don’t snatch her up, I might. So hurry up and get here before I decide to impress her with my awesome ability to do a one-armed handstand while balancing a tray of water glasses on my other hand.

“Fine. Three minutes.” Kris ended the call before Daniel could get another word in about how much this night was going to suck. 

With the girls that Daniel forced him to meet, it was disconcerting how often their eyes would spark with interest as Kris stood there plotting ways to hurt his brother. (These mainly included over-spicing his food or eating his last cookie.) Kris always broke away if the spark started at ‘fertile’, but if it started at ‘cook’, he would stammer an apology for Daniel’s behavior. Either way, he would retreat as his brother explained that he was ‘shy’ and handed over a business card for the restaurant. Kris made sure to run operations from inside the kitchen for several days afterwards instead of walking around to chat with the patrons, so he never could be sure how many of these potential ‘dates’ he prepared meals for. 

It was coming up on dusk as he approached Bella Rosa. The gaslights on either side of the entrance burned brightly above the shrubbery that lined the facade. He looked through the windows, their smoked glass divided by iron trellises, to see if the girl was inside, but he couldn’t make out anything except the usual blur. He headed around to the back entrance, just in case. 

“Don’t take your coat off!” his mother said as soon as he stepped in the door. “We need fennel.” She shoved a spade and brown potato sack into his hands, which he had thrown up into a defensive position upon seeing her rushing towards him like a carriage out of control. 

“For what?” Kris asked, mouth gaping. “Mama, you’re not making--” He stopped talking when the glint in her eyes turned ever so slightly insane. He began to back out the door. “You’ve got bail money in case I get caught?”

“Of course, dear.” Kim smiled brightly, looking more like her usual self. “And hurry back so you can meet the young lady Daniel has been talking to about you!”

“Right,” Kris said, as the idea of sneaking into the castle grounds, risking his life scaling the stone wall, dropping onto a muddy hill with no traction, and avoiding the guard dogs and the security detail suddenly seemed like a great idea. 

He didn’t know how the castle garden became the only one to grow fennel, and truth be told he’d never cared all that much. He’d only gone on the fennel run once before. Usually Daniel did it, after which he was intolerable because he came back all ‘Return of the Conquering Hero’, full of bombast and back flips.

The last time Kris did it, he’d been bitten by a dog (thankfully trained to contain and not maul) and arrested. 

He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t want to meet the new girl. But, come to think of it, jail hadn’t been so bad. He'd spent only a few hours behind bars and he’d exchanged recipes with a senile old lady in custody for exposing herself in a crosswalk. His mother had then paid to get him out and managed to convince the arresting officer to drop the charges because Kris was “touched”, and had “gotten lost” in the castle garden. Kris kept his mouth shut and his head down as she led him out of the building, though he definitely caught the sympathetic looks the officer gave his mother as if she were a saint for dealing with such a testing child. 

Back at the section of wall where he had run his fingers on his earlier walk, he looked inside the bag. His mother had placed a paper bag inside. It was already starting to bleed through from its contents--hamburger stuffed with sleeping pills. Kris slung the bag over his shoulder, hooking the cord through his neck and arm. He checked that no one was watching, caught hold of the wall, and hoisted himself to the top. Pulling himself to his knees, he wobbled, glancing down at the ground where it rose into a hill, the top of which was about six feet downward. An uncomfortable drop, but a heck of a lot better than the twenty foot drop a few yards away. He slung the bag to his front.

And then he was falling, yanked down by a sudden weight as something caught the bag. A split second before his head hit the ground, he registered a furry body trying to make way with the sack that was still caught around him. He landed half in mud and half on stone, banging his head hard. He felt the dog lying down next to him, gnawing on the bag. As his eyes closed, and he was still thinking _at least I didn't have to impress a girl_ , he contemplated that maybe it was time he admitted to himself he was gay.

#

"Where in Kingdom is he?" Lord Brad shouted, coming down like Fury off a mountain to Sir Michael, the senior guard, who, despite being two heads taller and twice as broad, trembled in front of him. Brad banged his clipboard against the stone wall of the hallway, sending pages fluttering. They resettled, held in by the clip, and he awaited Sir Michael's answer.

"He is in his garden, my lord," Sir Michael said. "His Highness requested some time to commune--"

"Commune with his vegetables, yes, yes, I know," Brad interrupted, waving him silent. "But how many fucking hours does that take? Get a horse. Get him. The sun will be up soon and you _know how he gets_ when there's a chance he'll be seen."

"Yes, my lord." Sir Michael bowed, a movement done out of the haste of habit rather than protocol, and hurried away. 

Brad flipped through the pages of his clipboard, scrawled "You've been a pain in my ass" on the prince's daily report, and about-faced to walk in the other direction, his wooden heels clicking on the castle's stone floors.

#

It was a half-league's ride to the garden. Sir Michael spent the entire time grumbling to himself. What good did it do to be 'senior guard' when he was the only guard? He was guard, repairman, garbage collector... Anything that needed done, he did. He even opened jars. Everyone else had moved up country with the King and Queen, but Sir Michael, Lord Brad and Allison had opted to stay with the prince. He had a great affection for Prince Adam. They all did. But despite staying mainly because of this affection, he sometimes hoped that if, God forbid, the prince ever made good on his threats to end his misery, that the prince's parents would look favorably upon what Sir Michael and the others had given up to stay with him.

The moment he saw the prince's prone body, he cursed himself for having the thought and spurred his horse faster. In the moon's waning shadows, he was hard to make out, but he watched the broad back for signs of movement. Fortunately, it came, but it was in the form of the prince rising up so quickly that both Sir Michael and his horse were frightened. He steadied the beast and urged her forward.

"Your Highness? The sun will soon be upon us." Sir Michael spoke gently. In these moments, it was never certain if the prince would respond with his wits.

The prince was still on his knees and he scooted to the side, letting Sir Michael see what he'd been blocking with his body. It was a young man, lying face down. A brown-tipped dog slept beside him. Sir Michael had always thought that particular dog was a poor excuse for a guard. The man seemed to be breathing. It would be easy enough to chuck him back over the wall or, if tossing a citizen in such a manner that he could land on passersby and raise alarm was out of the question, then shoving him out the door would work just as well.

"We can help him, right?" Prince Adam asked. He pushed his hood down to expose his face, his eyes wide and lip trembling.

Sir Michael swung down off his horse. He knelt next to his prince and pushed his fingers over the trespasser's wound. The man flinched. Sir Michael sighed. So much for chucking him out.

"Yes, we can help him."

"Thank you, Sarver," Prince Adam said, using his surname, as he had when they were children, perhaps to remind Sir Michael that he had always done what Adam wanted. As the prince's face spread into a happy grin that was far too innocent for someone who manipulated so well, Sir Michael pushed away thoughts of putting the man out and instead began figuring out how to get him back to the castle.

#

His name was Kris. That much, Adam had managed to coax out of his intruder before he lost consciousness. And he was beautiful. Even in the moonlight, Adam had seen that. But seeing him in the castle's electric lighting, seeing that beauty illuminated, took his breath. He tried not to let anyone notice. _Kris, Kris, Kris, Kris, Kris_ , Adam thought to himself as he watched Kris sleep. Sarver had put him into Adam's bed. Adam had insisted on that. He had looked so fragile lying in the peat moss, but he was patched up now, thanks to Lord Brad, who had also bathed him (and not allowed Adam to stay, declaring that Adam would violate decorum "over my dead body").

Adam leaned back in his chair and balanced the heels of his boots on the bed's foot board. When Kris woke up, he would tell him how he had saved him and then maybe Kris would tell him all about the outside the world--the real things, how people lived--not just what he read in the bits of newspaper that were left after Brad finished cutting them to pieces to remove any mention of his name.

He'd told Brad to do it, so he couldn't complain. Anyway, the one time he'd tried to read an intact paper, because, really, a lot of the time there was an interesting story removed, he'd learned that he was dead. He'd handed the paper, and the scissors, back and walked away. They never said a word about it. Secretly, though, Adam was glad that that was the rumor. 

If he'd read the actual truth in that paper, he didn't want to think about what he would have done. Depression took hold of him too often, shook him up until he didn't want to do anything but lie in bed and shout curses at anyone who came near him, the people he knew would never leave him. The people with him now. Not his parents. He thought about this, too. Not his parents.

Kris stirred, seeming to hum as he approached wakefulness. Adam dropped his feet and stood, prepared to greet him, to regale him with the tale of his adventure and to tell him that it didn't matter that he was trespassing and obviously out to steal from the garden. All he had to do was stay and talk and all would be forgiven.

Kris's eyelids began to flutter. He squinted like a baby kitten finding its vision for the first time. Then realization set in and Adam backpedaled. Kris was about to see him. 

He couldn't. He hadn't let anyone see.... He'd surrendered his muddy hood to the laundry pile. He flailed backwards, searching for a door, a curtain, a blanket, _anything_ to hide himself. His damned heels caught a stone in the floor and sent him backwards onto his ass.

"Hello?" God, but Kris had a sexy voice. He sounded like he was from down country, low timbre with the consonants running together, broken by the slow drag of vowel. As he was already at the end of the bed, Adam rolled beneath it and tucked his legs up to his chest.

Possibly, there were more stupid, more cowardly things he'd done in his life, but at the moment this was hitting the top of the list. He held his breath and waited for Kris to go back to sleep. He had a head injury. Surely he wouldn't stay awake _that_ long.

#

At least he wasn't in jail.

Not every day that Kris woke up with that thought, but there you go. He sat up, pushing the covers down to his waist. His _naked_ waist. Lifting them up, he amended that to naked _everything_. Great. 

His head hurt. He touched it and winced as dull pain bloomed. Review: Fennel. Castle. Dog. Rock. Okay. Maybe he was in a castle cell.

These were awfully plush bedclothes for that. Plus he--he sniffed his arm--smelled like lilacs. Someone had bathed him. While he was naked. He started feeling a little sick. Leaning over the bed, he saw a pair of boots scrambling.

"Hello?" he asked.

The boots disappeared beneath the bed.

Those were some nice boots. They probably belonged to someone who didn't usually crawl around under furniture. If someone like that was under his bed, it meant that either he was scared of Kris or he'd done something embarrassing. More importantly, it either meant that someone else was holding Kris prisoner..., or that he wasn't prisoner.

"Where am I?" Kris asked.

Silence.

"Why am I naked?"

Silence.

"Am I prisoner?"

" _What? No!_ " The reply was muffled, but there was no mistaking its indignation. 

"Would you please come out?" Kris asked. "I haven't talked to the monster under my bed since I was six." He laughed, expecting the man to laugh with him. Instead, he heard him suck in his breath.

Oh.

"Look, I didn't mean anything by that. It was just a joke. I didn't... Will you please come out?" Lords, but he was bad, begging a stranger to get out from under a bed, not even knowing why he was on it. 

"O-okay, but you can't look at me."

"You want me to put the blanket over my head?" Kris asked in disbelief. He looked over the bed and saw a gloved finger curling up the edge as if testing the air. Was this the man who had found him? He'd worn gloves, hadn't he? Kris had thought nothing of his hidden face--it was secondary to the pain in his head--but perhaps the hood's purpose was not to ward off the chill weather.

"Yes."

He waited for the guy to say he was kidding. He didn't. "Fine." He covered himself. "I'm covered. Come out."

He heard scuffling as the man dragged himself out, then more noises that sounded like he was dusting his clothes off. Kris sat there, feeling like a marshmallow beneath the down-stuffed duvet.

"Thank you," the man said. "If you want to stay, you're welcome. I can have someone bring breakfast. Or we could talk..." His voice faltered, as if he knew how Kris would take the request.

"What time is it?" Kris asked.

"The first bird has sung. I thought that was what woke you."

Kris almost darted forward. His mother, the fennel, _Cowell_. The man's gasp stopped him. "I have to go," he said. "I'm sorry. My family has a restaurant and last night I was..."

"Stealing fennel from the garden?" His companion laughed softly.

Beneath the blanket, Kris said. "It was important. A reviewer was coming. His word can close a place. And now I've messed everything up and missed him and..." he stumbled as a sob took him by surprise. "I'm sorry, it's just that this is everything I've worked for and it's not fair that one foolish mistake could take it away." He scrubbed tears away before they could fall.

"You can go."

"What?" Kris looked up sharply, although there was nothing to see but white.

"You can go. But promise you'll come back tonight. To talk."

"Bring my own blindfold?" Kris asked, half joking, half bitter.

"Your clothes have been laundered. Someone will be up with them in a moment."

"Tell me your name."

A few seconds of silence ticked by. "Mitchel."

"What happens if I don't come back tonight, Mitchel?"

"I shall wish that you had," Mitchel said in a voice made all the smaller by his obvious effort to keep it from wavering, and Kris heard him walking away. He pulled the blankets off his head and blinked at the closed door.

#

When Kris left the castle, it was by the same heavy door that Prince Adam had once closed against him. In addition to his clothes, which smelled of lye, and his freshly brushed boots, the red-headed servant girl had also handed him a burlap sack, different from his own, and filled with fennel.

When he tried to hand it back to her, she said, "He likes you," and turned around to walk away. Before he could call after her, a man the size of a tree appeared beside him, disarmingly quiet, introduced himself as the Captain of the Guard, and escorted Kris via horseback over the grounds to the other side of that familiar door.

"Mitchel has invited me back this evening," Kris said after working up the courage. (Sir Michael did not invite comfortable chatter, and they were nearly stopped before Kris found his nerve.)

"Did he, now?" Sir Michael said. Kris couldn't tell if he was disinterested or annoyed. "Going on inviting thieves back, is he? Not giving us a chance to screen them and all, is he?" 

Kris judged that this addendum was not meant for his ears and remained quiet. He did need to clear up one thing, though... "Is he a servant or... I don't wish to get him into trouble. If I'm not to return, please tell me."

When Sir Michael turned in his saddle to look at him, his face was such a mask of power that Kris gripped his saddlehorn a little tighter to distract himself from the need to cower. "Mitchel is no servant," Sir Michael said. "He is held in especial affection by his Royal Highness Prince Adam. You will consider a request from Mitchel as an order from your Prince. What time did he request you this evening?"

The information Sir Michael poured on him was enough to make Kris overlook the concluding question. "Prince Adam is alive?" He was certain his eyes were bugging out, but there was nothing to be done about it.

"He is." Sir Michael said nothing more. Kris had it on the tip of his tongue to tell him about the rumors, what people said outside the castle grounds, but one look at the tightness around Sir Michael's eyes quelled him into silence. 

Almost before he knew it, he was on the cobblestone walkway outside the grounds, fennel in hand, with directions to return to the same door exactly two hours after sunset. The heavy latch had closed before Kris realized that he wanted to ask where the prince was, even though he was certain Sir Michael would not answer. 

Kris turned away and hurried down the hill. _Prince Adam was alive._ He swallowed this truth down and hid it away in a place safe in his belly. Sir Michael hadn't forbidden him from telling it, but something told Kris that he should keep it to himself and never even hint at this knowledge.

There had been a rumor, hidden amongst the ones that Prince Adam had died or had turned into a ghost, that he had lost his mind. This, like those of his death, took on many permutations. The prince was insane. His great uncle, brother to the father of the current king, had returned from war sixty years earlier with half his mental facilities in place, so people said that Prince Adam was genetically inclined towards mental fragility. The reasons for this supposed insanity compounded the number of rumors and ranged from a broken heart to finding out one day that he could not always have his way. 

Outside of insanity, some believed that Prince Adam had suffered a head injury and now lived with the mind of a child, having reverted back to some innocent age. According to these rumors, he was kept protected from all frightening things and pampered and fed and brought toys to play with, hundreds and hundreds of toys, although there were no friends for the tragic prince who could not be king. The royal family kept him shuttered away, out of sight; out of mind, but loved nonetheless, at least, so the rumors said. 

Kris had never known what to believe. 

Perhaps Mitchel could tell him about the prince. Even as the idea came into his mind, Kris knew he wouldn't dare ask. He would obey Mitchel, as he would the prince, turn up on time, and ignore the jealous niggling in the back of his mind that still wondered why he had never been good enough to be called into the prince's playroom as a child but apparently was now. At least, that was the supposition if he was to treat Mitchel the same as Prince Adam. Kris had somehow earned the right to become the playmate of the royal second.

He tripped as he reached the bottom of the hill, and the dual tasks of stopping his roll along with gathering up the spilled fennel refocused his mind on getting down to Bella Rosa, so he gave his adventure, the prince, and Mitchel no more thought.

At Bella Rosa, his mother took the bag of fennel. Instead of racing towards the sink, she set it on the counter. "Cowell came. I had to serve him squash. Squash, Kristopher! Where were you?"

"I'm sorry, Mom. I..." He rubbed his head and her eyes widened. She knocked his hand away to push his hair off his face.

"What happened to you? Oh, honey, did you fall?"

"And more than that." He related the odd story to her. "I'm so sorry about Cowell. If he gives us a bad review, it will be my fault."

She hugged him. "Don't blame yourself. I should have sent Daniel."

Kris squeezed her tight. "I'm just no good at thieving."

#

Adam watched as Brad paced. "Why did you invite him back? This will only lead to trouble!"

"It was something he said." Adam wished he would sit down. 

"What did he say? Did he threaten you?"

"He said, it's not fair that one foolish mistake could take it away."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I could relate."

Brad stopped pacing. "What was he talking about?"

"Oh, a reviewer was coming to his restaurant. He was afraid his disaster here would ruin their chances. Say, can you arrange to have the man return? Cowell, I think?"

"Of course." Brad made a note. "Your Highness? Be careful with this man. Whatever he may have said to you, he's still a thief."

"I'm a grown man, Brad. I'll be fine."

#

Kris returned to the great wooden door scrubbed within an inch of his life thanks to his mother and with his unruly hair parted and slicked down with a fistful of gel. Sir Michael met him at the door with an extra horse and two electric lanterns. They rode together to the castle. Kris fidgeted in his saddle. He was unaccustomed to riding, plus his mother had sewn him into a new pair of stiff trousers.

"How was your evening?" Sir Michael asked. 

"Mr. Cowell's visit did not go well. Mother is very worried."

"And you?"

"I blame myself."

"Hmm."

Kris wasn't sure if Sir Michael spoke to him out of interest or because as a knight it was in his training to engage in small talk. "Have you been here long?" he asked.

"All my life," Sir Michael said. He reached over for Kris's horse's bridle and guided it back to the path. Then he pushed the horse on ahead so they walked in single file. It was as firm a conclusion to a conversation as Kris had ever experienced. 

The horse stopped at the door of the castle in an area where chickens roamed, pecking bits of corn that had been tossed amongst the grass. Sir Michael dismounted. Kris, inexperienced in riding, caught his foot in the stirrup and almost hung himself upside down in getting off, but at the last moment Sir Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him down.

"Thanks," Kris said.

Sir Michael said nothing, but Kris caught a whisper of a smile before Sir Michael turned away. As they approached the door, trepidation took hold of Kris's stomach. What was he doing? A nighttime meeting with a man who wouldn't allow Kris to see his face? And in a castle surrounded by legend so embedded in local lore that not even the King and Queen had set foot inside it for ten years? Who were these people who stayed here?

The door flew open and the same teenaged servant girl who'd given him the fennel barreled out with her hair the color of fire: orange, brown, blue, and red, flying behind her. "He came!" she exclaimed. Before Kris could devise a defense, she grabbed his hands and tugged him inside where he found himself planted on a chair next to a table and a cold mug set before him. "It's beetroot juice," the girl said. "I added a dash of nutmeg and milk. Try it!" He took a tentative sip. "I love your restaurant, so I really want to know what you think," she continued. She took a seat opposite him and leaned forward on her elbows, beaming. 

"It's very good." He took another sip as the tingling aftertaste hit his tongue. "Actually, quite good." He looked up and returned her smile. "I'm impressed."

"I have so many other things I want to show you!" The girl leapt up, an explosion of energy, and flung various cabinets open.

"Allison," Sir Michael said. He stood in the doorway stomping mud off his boots after stabling the horses. "Mr. Allen is here for Mitchel, not your cooking displays." At her fallen expression, he added, "but perhaps another time."

"Yes," Kris said, wanting to see her smile return. "Absolutely."

"Well," Allison said, "he's excited to see you, too." To Sir Michael, she said, "Brad will be along in a minute to take him."

"All right." Sir Michael sat down and pulled another chair over to rest his huge feet upon it. "May as well finish that," he said, pointing to the mug. You won't find that just anywhere."

"No, I know I won't," Kris said. He settled back with it, using the opportunity to examine the kitchen from his seat. It was as old world as he'd imagined--woodburning and iron wrought. A bucket hung on a hook next to the door, which was still open so Kris could see the well pump in the yard. "Are you the only one here who works in the kitchen?" Kris asked.

"Just me," Allison said. "Don't mind, though. Means no one can complain about what I make because there's no one else to make it."

"We don't complain too often," Sir Michael said. He directed a fond smile at her. She grinned back and set a mug in front of him, too. 

"I've finished," Kris said. "Should I put the mug in the dish pan?" He gestured to a metal tub that sat on the counter. 

"I've got it," Allison said. She took the mug and turned toward the tub. Instead of placing the mug inside, she clicked a latch on the iron door beneath the counter, swung it open, and revealed a gleaming dishwasher. Pulling a plastic rack out, she popped the mug inside.

"That's a dishwasher," Kris said.

"What else would it be?" Allison asked.

"I... thought it was where you kept your coal."

She stared at him. "It's not."

"I see."

"Their Majesties prefer that the castle retain its original appearance," Sir Michael said. "However, since they have not been here for some time and did not visit the kitchen when they were here, we have found a way around that. Now, anyone who comes will feel he is in the original kitchen, and dear Allison needn't kill herself with unnecessary work."

"It was Prince Adam's idea," Allison said. Kris leaned forward with eagerness. So the prince was in communication with them, wherever he was. "He said that--" She fell silent under the glare of a tiny man with a thunderous countenance who appeared in an inner doorway. He balanced a clipboard on his hip and pinched his mouth into an expression that said he was either a man at the end of his rope or one whom the world consistently disappointed. 

"Kristopher?" the new man asked, with a tone that said he needed no answer.

Kris rose. "Yes, sir."

"I'm Lord Brad. Follow me."

"How is he?" Allison asked, stopping Lord Brad's booted heel in mid-click as he turned around.

"Nervous." Glancing at Kris, Lord Brad assessed him top to toe in the amount of time it took him to flick his eyes one end to the other. "Come on."

Kris jogged to keep up as they moved through the corridor. He didn't have time to look, but caught glimpses of unicorns, swords, and kings in the floor-to-ceiling tapestries along the wall. "Sir Michael said I'm to treat Mitchel the same as I would the prince. Shall I bow to him when I see him?"

"You won't see him."

"Yes, I'll be blindfolded, I know, but..."

"The prince is the prince. Mitchel is Mitchel."

Before Kris could pry a workable answer out of that, Brad herded him into a new room. Kris froze under its opulence. His boots sank into the white carpet. The wall paper glimmered with goldleaf. In the center of the room, a grand piano sat, handwritten score sheets strewn across it and its bench. A harp was tucked into one corner. In the other, a guitar leaned against the wall. Brad led him to a high-backed chair of the same gold color as the walls. He sank into its cushion.

"Put this on." 

Kris accepted the blindfold and tied it around his eyes. Brad tugged it, making the fit secure. "See anything?"

"No."

"Now?"

Kris sensed Brad's fingers beneath his nose. "No," he said, and sneezed. The sound of Lord Brad wiping his hand on his breaches followed. He tried not to smile as Lord Brad muttered with discontent. 

"Stay," Lord Brad said. 

Kris gripped the arms of the chair, seeking to secure himself now that he'd lost his vision, and waited. Only seconds passed before he heard someone with a heavier step than Lord Brad's plop into the chair beside him.

"Mitchel?" Kris asked when the new person didn't speak.

"I... I'm glad you came. I didn't know if you would." Mitchel sounded more hesitant than he had earlier, as if now that he'd gotten his way, he didn't know what to do.

"I promised," Kris said. 

"Not everyone keeps their promises. In fact, I'd say you're rather rare, Kris Allen."

"You know me?"

"Allison has been bending my ear about your family's restaurant all day. What happened with the review?"

"It was a disaster. Mother is very worried about what will happen when the paper comes out."

"Perhaps he will return."

"In a year, maybe. The damage will be done by then. It's my fault."

Kris heard shuffling and footsteps as Mitchel walked a few paces away. "You don't mind the blindfold?" he asked.

Kris offered a smile and hoped it didn't reveal how awkward he felt. "It's better than being wrapped in a duvet." Sweet laughter met his ears, and he smiled for real.

"I suppose it is," Mitchel said.

"Is it... may I ask--?"

"No," Mitchel said, sharper than he'd ever been with Kris. Kris cringed back. Instantly, Mitchel was there, kneeling in front of him and covering Kris's hands with his own. "Please don't ask, I meant to say. I know you want to, but I... I don't like to be seen. That's all there is to it, really. My... my features lack... pleasantness."

Mitchel's hands were smooth and warm, so different from Kris's rough ones. He couldn't believe that someone with such hands would have a countenance best kept hidden. Between playing guitar and pulling weeds up from the garden, Kris had callouses on his fingers and palms, but Mitchel's felt smooth. Mitchel's breath shook as Kris turned his palm up, but he didn't move when Kris traced it with a questing finger. Finally, when Kris reached his wrist, Mitchel pulled away, though Kris could sense his reluctance. He told himself he should be glad for it because his breathing had grown heavy, too, and thoughts of a less-than-gentlemanly nature touched his mind.

"So," he said in the moment of silence, "what would you like to do?"

"I thought... Allison mentioned you play a guitar. She saw you with it at Bella Rosa," Mitchel said. As before, his hesitance had returned. "I have a... if you wanted... I don't have much opportunity to hear the guitar."

"You don't have a radio?" Kris asked. His gentle chiding fell against another silence. He was about to apologize when Mitchel murmured, "Brad doesn't like me to hear the news."

"Well, is Brad your boss?" Seemed Lord Brad had control of the entire household, impressive for a man who looked like a pixie. However, after spending three minutes with him, Kris wouldn't dare say that to Brad's face.

"I don't like to hear it, either," Mitchel said after another bout of silence. Maybe they wouldn't feel so awkward if Kris could see what Mitchel did when he didn't speak. "So I don't listen to the radio much."

"Well, put a guitar in my hands and I'll play for you."

"Thank you." The gratitude in Mitchel's voice was so obvious that Kris blushed. With relief, he felt the instrument Mitchel placed in his hands, hunched over it, and pushed every thought away except for those centered on music. 

"I can play you something popular if you like."

"I want to hear what you like. Anything at all."

"All right." He strummed a few times, let his fingers settle in. He thought about playing one of his own songs, but he only played those for his family. They weren't good enough for anyone else, certainly not good enough to be heard inside the castle walls. Settling on a tune his father had taught him, he moved his fingers into position. Playing without sight was strange. Even though he rarely looked at his instrument while he played, having the option removed disconcerted him. After a few false notes, he found his place and began to play.

#

Adam meant to return to his chair to listen as Kris played, but he ended up cross-legged on the floor instead, gazing up at him like a child waiting for a story. His palm held the residue of Kris's touch, curious and explorative, and he balanced it on his knee, facing up, to hold it there as long as he could. He couldn't remember the last time a simple touch made him feel like this, alive and whole.

Oh, there were touches in his life, plenty of them. Allison hugged him every day, regardless of his wanting her to. Sir Michael always had a too-rough pat on the back for him, and Lord Brad, with his put-upon smile that he reserved for Adam, bequeathed the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. But these were all habitual. Kris's touch was new, and Adam hadn't known where it would go. Until Kris pulled away, Adam had watched the trajectory of his finger with a fascinated gaze. 

Kris began a new song, one Adam recognized. It was a folk song his nurse had sung to him. Memories of himself as a child, happy and playing with other children, welled up in him. He had chased them all away. Even Nurse had left him.

"Mitchel?" Kris reached for him over the guitar, and Adam realized he'd sobbed aloud. He reeled backwards, away from Kris's hand.

"You should go."

Kris's hand fell. His mouth set in a disappointed line. "Did I do something to offend you?" 

Adam was too busy retreating to answer. At the door, he stopped long enough to say, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

"If you want me to."

"Yes." Then he had to flee before he crumbled into a mess of emotion. He ran down the hallway, past Brad and his cries, until he reached his rooms. He slammed the door closed and threw the bolt over the lock. He buried his face in his pillow and screamed. The screams gave way to sobs.

#

Kris blinked as someone removed his blindfold. Sir Michael looked down at him. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"I'm sure it's not your fault," Sir Michael said.

"He asked if I'll come back tomorrow."

"Then you'd best come back."

Kris followed Sir Michael out of the room, uncertain if that was a threat. They backtracked the way he'd come in, back through the kitchen. Again, Sir Michael guided him to the castle wall's entrance by horseback. He didn't speak this time, but his face held a permanent wince. For around and above them they heard the sound that the local people called Prince Adam's ghost. It resounded haunting and terrible and the night mist seemed to hold it in the air. 

"That's him, isn't it?" Kris asked. "It's Mitchel, and I did that."

"Don't give yourself too much credit, boy," Sir Michael said. He wrenched the latch open on the door into the street. "You aren't capable of doing that." Then he shoved Kris outside the castle walls and slammed the door on him. Kris rubbed his ears against the terrible sound of Mitchel's wailing. He wished he could scale the wall again, find him, and discover some way to bring him comfort. Staring up at the castle window where the sound seemed to emanate, he made a vow that one day, he would do it. He just had to figure out what Mitchel needed first.

#

Lord Brad pounded on Adam's door until his knuckles hurt. "Adam!"

No response came as Adam continued his wailing on the other side. 

Lord Brad walked away. There was no talking to Adam when he got like this. It was best to leave him alone. Brad descended to the kitchen, where Allison and Sir Michael had already gathered. Brad sat down at the table too, though he kept a respectable distance as befitted his superiority. 

"Did he open the door?" Allison asked.

Brad gave her a look that indicated she should extrapolate her answer based on both his expression and the unmitigated anguished moans that drifted from Adam's room to their ears.

"Oh," Allison said. "Well, that sucks." She handed Brad a mug of something purple. He sniffed it and took a tentative sip. "I really thought Kris would be good for him."

"Apparently not." The purple drink had a green weed floating in it. Brad sipped around it. "Well, I suspect he's scared him off now." He looked up, aware of the silence and, looking at their faces turned away from him, connected it to his comment. "I meant with his," he gestured toward the door, "reaction, not because His Highness is frightening."

"Because he's not," Allison said. She looked angry.

"Don't have to tell me that," Brad said. He stared at her, mouth set, until she backed down. "Anyway, I guess that'll be the end of Kris."

"He's coming back tomorrow," Michael said. "He told me so."

"I don't know if the prince will wish to see him."

"Kris said he invited him."

"Oh." Brad stared at his mug, speechless for once.

"Well, I think it's good," Allison said. "I think Kris is good for him. He likes music, too."

"I'd better get to bed." Brad stood up and left the mug on the table. He turned to Michael. "Have a look at the piano in the morning. Perhaps Kristopher plays. His Highness would enjoy that."

"Yep," Michael said. 

Brad hesitated at the door again. Michael and Allison looked at him. They were his best friends, his only friends, for the last ten years. He wondered if they knew. He turned and left, again, without telling them. Protocol first, always.

#

Living alone meant Kris didn't have to explain his lateness to anyone, no one except his dog, who ran between his legs the moment he arrived and relieved himself in the front yard before racing back inside.

"Sorry, Zenith." Kris bent down to scratch the pug dog's ears. Zenith twisted around to lick his fingers, happy enough in his empty bladder to bestow forgiveness. Kris freshened his food and water as Zenith tried to help by getting in the way as much as possible. Kris put the dishes down and stepped out of the way. 

He made himself a sandwich with cheese and mustard. _If my customers could see me now_ , he thought as he made short work of eating it. He smiled around the last bite. He sat, listening to Zenith gobble and growl. Mitchel's wails echoed in his mind. Looking out the window to the perfect night, he couldn't tell if they continued. Kris had never been able to hear them from his cottage. For all he knew, the town center was haunted by the painful cries all night long. Knowing they belonged to Mitchel raised even more questions. Knowing as he did that Prince Adam was alive, if Mitchel made these wails, was there any evidence remaining of Prince Adam? Was he even at the castle?

He got up and wiped his crumbs into his hand so he could drop them in the sink. He had mixed feelings about returning. He imagined anyone would, when faced with the reaction he'd seen tonight. Whatever happened, Kris did not want to send Mitchel into that state again. He had to push it out of his mind. In three hours, he needed to be at the restaurant prepping for breakfast and checking the proposed menu Daniel prepared for lunch. Daniel had a habit of putting on foods that stretched the budget. Kris hated to say no to him because he would love to experiment with most of the dishes Daniel proposed, but at the same time they needed to stay in business, and that meant watching their costs.

#

"He's coming back!" Kris's mother grabbed him the moment he stepped into the kitchen.

"What? Who?"

"Mr. Cowell! He's coming back tonight Kristopher! The fennel is still fresh, right? You can still use it?"

"Yes. I--" Kris extracted himself from her iron grip and took her hands in his. "Mother, yes. We can still use the fennel." He smiled as the promising moment sank in. How had this happened? Did Mitchel have something to do with it? "I'll make the best soup. I'll make you proud."

She beamed back at him. "This will save the restaurant." With a brisk nod and his mind going in a thousand directions, Kris reached for his apron and called for Daniel. 

"Cowell is coming back tonight. Can you handle the breakfast and lunch orders? I need all my concentration for this." 

"Yes." Daniel had no snappy comebacks. Today would be a family effort.

Kris didn't spare a thought for Mitchel until Cowell walked out the door. He'd smiled as he left and patted his belly. Then Kris remembered all at once that he was late. Grabbing an empty container, he ladled his prized soup into it and dropped it into an insulated carrying bag. Daniel entered as Kris hung up his apron. He thrust a twenty point note in the air. "I think he liked us!" The staff erupted in cheers. Noticing Kris with one foot out the door, Daniel lowered the money. "Where are you going?"

Kris swallowed his panic. It was one thing to tell his mother about his appointment, but he couldn't announce it in front of the kitchen! He wouldn't tell Daniel, anyway. He couldn't keep a secret like this. True, no one at the castle had told him not to tell, but he instinctively knew he shouldn't. "I'm tired," Kris said. "I'm going home."

"I'll walk with you."

"No, I... I'd rather be alone if that's all right."

Daniel examined him. The other staff fell quiet too, all peering at him. Kris resolved to be more standoffish in the future so it wouldn't seem so odd that he wanted to walk home alone. "Is it a girl?"

"It is definitely not a girl." Kris didn't mean to sound so vehement, but if it were a girl, Daniel would just try to steal her away.

Daniel's eyes widened, and then he smiled with shark teeth as if everything had fallen to place for him--why Kris showed no interest in the women Daniel pushed on him, why Kris was an aging bachelor with no signs of rectifying that. Everyone else seemed to cotton onto Kris's confession before Kris did. Realizing too late that he should have denied that he was meeting anyone instead of denying he was meeting a girl, he almost fell down in his haste to get away. Too overcome with embarrassment to stick with the lie about going home alone, he blurted, "If you follow me, I'll… I'll kill you." He blushed from the ensuing laughter and finally got the door open. He fled.

#

"He's not coming is he? I've scared him! He knows I'm hideous!" Prince Adam whirled on Lord Brad, pulling him up sharp by his lapels. Lord Brad slanted his gaze to the right and succumbed to being shaken like a doll.

"You are not hideous."

"Then why isn't he here?" Prince Adam punctuated the demand by stomping his booted foot. "Sir Michael told him to return at the same time. It's twenty past!"

"Perhaps he was caught in traffic," Lord Brad said through clenched teeth. This mollified Adam enough to release him. He smoothed down his tunic. Adam continued to pace. Lord Brad concentrated on remaining still and attentive. ( _Breathe in. Don't smack the prince with your clipboard. Breathe out._ )

"He's here!" Allison burst into the room, face shining. "Your Highness, he's here!"

"Where? What happened? Why was he late?'

"He's been in the kitchen. Sir Michael wouldn't let him come up in his current state." Allison trotted after the prince as he almost ran toward the kitchen.

"Your Highness!" Lord Brad yelled, uncertain if he should scold the prince's comportment--the first in line to the throne did not _run_ through his castle like a peasant at a picnic--or point out than he was about to burst upon the unblindfolded Kristopher. With a fit of speed, he darted around the prince, swung into the kitchen, and grabbing the only thing at hand, a large pot, dropped it over Kristopher's head. Only then did he step back and notice that Kris was sitting shirtless on the table with a kitchen towel over his lap. Other than the towel and the pot, he was nude. 

Brad reared back, spluttering. He'd never, not in all his... he looked to Sir Michael for explanation. "He brought soup," Michael said, explaining nothing.

"I was in a rush to get here and I spilled it," Kristopher said from beneath the pot. "I am sorry." He sounded mournful. "It was good soup. I wanted to share it with all of you. It belonged to his Highness anyway. It was from his fennel. I had hoped that Mitchel would share it with him." He stopped and his hands came up in a position of shock. "Mitchel? Are you here?"

Lord Brad turned when no answer came. Prince Adam was indeed there, frozen against the door and staring at Kristopher in all his partially-toweled glory. His Highness looked stricken with panic.

"If you're here, I'm really sorry I'm late. I had an accident. Please don't be upset." It was difficult to tell with the pot on his head, but based on his slumped shoulders--not that Kristopher had the best, or even half-decent, posture to begin with--he did look sorry. Lord Brad nudged Adam, hoping to get _something_ from him, but the last thing he wanted was the expression of grief Adam turned towards him. He'd seen it before, at the time they had locked the doors and many times since. Adam stepped away, turned, and walked back the way he'd come. Lord Brad perused Kristopher, taking in his broad muscles--worker's muscles, probably from lifting flour or climbing walls to commit crimes, his hands, with callused fingers, most likely from picking locks, and his legs, which seemed unnaturally hairy on his calves and almost bare at his thighs. And yet for all that Lord Brad saw to criticize, he couldn't deny Kristopher was a beautiful man, and that was what set him running after the prince.

#

"What happened? What's going on?" Kris touched the rim of the pot, but stopped short of pulling it off. It was wrought iron, and heavy. It smelled like cooking oil, and a touch of saffron--not bad, actually. Someone lifted it off. Allison appeared, looking sheepish.

"Sorry," she said, "I guess his, er, Mitchel isn't up for seeing you tonight."

"I'm not leaving without my clothes," Kris said. He pulled the towel around himself, wishing it would reach around to cover his backside too. "If I wasn't in such a rush to get here, I wouldn't have spilled. Can't I just talk to him to apologize?" He looked around for any sign of agreement, but no one would look at him. Finally, he stood up on his own. He held the towel over his privates, though it seemed pointless--Allison and Sir Michael had seen him in his altogether when he'd stripped in front of them, too concerned with getting out of his hot clothes to worry about modesty. Sir Michael found his voice as Kris headed for the hallway.

"No! Absolutely not."

Kris turned, defiant. "I came to play music for Mitchel. I intend to do that, whether or not he wishes me to do it in his company." Mitchel's cries the night before had broken Kris's heart. He knew the sounds of loneliness. Maybe Mitchel was so deep inside his fear that he couldn't accept Kris's coming, but that didn't mean Kris would give up on him. 

"Fine," Sir Michael said. "We have a piano set up. You play?"

"Yes."

Sir Michael rubbed his forehead and released a long-suffering sigh. "Allison, find him a robe, would you?"

"And a blindfold," Kris called after her as she hurried through a different exit. He glanced back at Sir Michael. "Unless you want me to continue with the pot."

Sir Michael didn't even crack a smile. They stared at each other in silence until Allison returned with the requested items in hand. Kris pulled the robe on. It was a royal blue, lush against his skin. The lapel bore the Lambert family royal crest. Kris fingered it. A worried flutter appeared in his stomach, that perhaps he was wearing the robe of one of the royals, but he pushed it away. Sir Michael would never allow that. 

"Follow me." With the blindfold in hand, Kris followed Sir Michael down the hall. He dawdled looking at the tapestries until Sir Michael grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along. 

"Well, I didn't have a good look at these yesterday," Kris protested, but quickened his step. He was out of breath when they stopped. Sir Michael opened a door and shoved him inside. Kris walked to the piano. It was beautiful, as white as the carpet with gold trim that matched the gold around the cornices of the walls. He touched it, reverent, letting his fingertips worship it as his mind danced over the tunes he wanted to coax from it. Turning to the door, with the intent of sharing his wonder with Sir Michael, he found himself alone. He sat down on the bench. Despite being wooden, it was sanded to perfection and felt almost like a cushion. He wiggled on it until he found his comfort spot. Then, after tying the blindfold on, he found the center of the keys, tapped out a middle C, and began to play. 

Since he had no one to entertain apart from himself, he began to play his own music. He sang softly, pausing after each verse to listen, each time determining that he was still alone. He wasn't sure how long he played. As with the guitar the previous night, it was odd to play without sight, even though he rarely needed to look at the keys. The fact that now he _couldn't_ tripped him up some. However, he carried on and soon forgot about it by closing his eyes behind the blindfold and pretending that his lack of sight was a choice rather than a necessity. He had been nervous to play his songs for Mitchel, and he was still anxious, but after what had happened--he was still uncertain of the specifics--in the kitchen, taking refuge in his own music seemed like a logical thing to do. Pouring himself into the songs he'd written in secret, never played outside his own home and giving them to this beautiful piano, made him forget that he was in a strange situation, perhaps a dangerous one.

"Wha-what!" Kris startled when someone touched him.

"I…" He recognized Mitchel's frightened voice as Mitchel yanked his hand away. "I'm sorry. I…"

Kris reached for him. Mitchel hissed when Kris caught him, but he didn't pull away. Kris felt him tense, though, as if he expected Kris to find some flaw and release him. "Mr. Cowell returned to give us another chance. Was that your doing?" Mitchel didn't answer. "Sit down. Please. Do you know how to play?" Based on the slight tug from Mitchel's hand, Kris guessed he was shaking his head. "I can teach you." He smiled. "It'll be so easy I'll do it blindfolded."

Mitchel laughed, surprised. "Let go."

Kris did, and next felt Mitchel sitting beside him. He was larger than Kris. His legs bent beneath the bench at a sharper angle and his shoulder rose higher. "Okay. Hands on the piano." Kris demonstrated.

"Like this?" Mitchel touched a note.

"Okay. Now, you need to get your first finger of your right hand on a C, so one that sounds like this." Kris repositioned his hands onto the C below middle. “If you count fourteen white keys from where mine is, you should be at C above middle, or high C." Mitchel counted under his breath and then touched the correct key.

"Is that right?"

"It's perfect. Now play what I play." He tapped out a simple melody of three notes. Mitchel repeated it.

"I want to learn the song you were singing when I came in. Can you teach me that one?"

Kris smiled. He turned so Mitchel would see. "Yes. Start here. Second finger." The lesson continued until Kris became sleepy. He jolted up at one point, causing Mitchel to crash on the keys. "Mm. Sorry. Guess I'm tired."

Mitchel hurried to stand. "I've kept you. I'm sorry. I suppose I lost track of time."

"It's all right. I enjoyed it. May I come back tomorrow?"

"Do you want to?" Mitchel sounded hopeful.

"Yes, of course."

"Then, yes. I'd like that. Kris, I… I wanted to say I'm sorry, for earlier. I shouldn't have run away."

"Why did you?"

Mitchel didn't answer for a long time. Kris was about to excuse him when he said, "Because you're beautiful, and I'm...."

"Mitchel, whatever reason you think I should wear this mask for, if it's a perception you have about your looks, or if someone has said something to you, I promise you I'm not that way."

Mitchel gave a soft, hateful laugh. "You swear that you won't scorn me."

"Lord Brad doesn't. Or Sir Michael. Or Allison."

"And the end of the day they're just servants."

"And what am I to you?" Kris thrust his chin up.

The answer stunned him. "A friend." Mitchel hovered near him, perhaps wishing to touch Kris's face or shoulder, but he stopped short of making a connection. "Sir Michael is here with your clothes. He'll show you out." With that, he left. Kris stood for a few seconds before Sir Michael told him it was okay to remove the blindfold. Kris's clothes were folded in a chair. Sir Michael turned his back as Kris changed. Kris's hands shook as he pulled his trousers on. The evening's strangeness threatened to overwhelm him. He gathered his resolve and worked through it, but it was a silent ride back to the gate.

"Be on time tomorrow," Sir Michael said.

"I will," Kris said.

"Wait." Sir Michael handed him his soup container and the bag he'd used to carry it. Both were freshly washed. 

"Thank you." Kris alighted from his mount and exited through the great door, the same one he'd watched the sixteen-year-old prince close. As he walked away, the vision of Prince Adam's eyes returned to him, how blue they'd been, and how full of sorrow. The castle was quiet tonight, no hint of the usual wailing or ghostly cries. Somehow, this made Kris feel even lonelier, so he hurried away until he could use distance as his excuse for not hearing them, rather than the fact that there was nothing to hear.

#

"Just servants?" Brad demanded with shrill intensity. Adam winced.

"I... I didn't think you were listening."

Brad stopped short and stared at him. "I am always listening. It is my _job_. As your _servant_." He stepped closer, thunderous. Adam took an automatic step backwards before remembering who the royal was in the room. "I have been loyal to you since the day I was born, in this _room_ , I might remind you. I am devoted to you! To _you_ , out of everyone in your entire fucked up family!"

Adam went cold at the insult. "Lord Brad--" Usually the formality was enough to remind Brad of his position, but tonight it went unheeded. 

"No! They left you. We stayed! Because we love you. Ad--Your Highness, we _love_ you, and there is nothing any of us here wouldn't do for you, and I swear to God, if you act like that isn't friendship, I'll… I'll," he struggled, face growing a deeper red, "I'll hit you with my boot!" He paused to gasp for breath as Adam burst into laughter. 

He pointed at Brad's three-inch heels as he clutched his stomach. "You could kill someone with those!"

Glancing down, Brad began to laugh too. "Perhaps we should make them mandatory for our knights." Picturing Sir Michael in Brad's boots made Adam lose all control. He fell into a chair and laughed until he couldn't breathe. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it when I said you were only a servant."

"Good." Brad brushed himself down, avoiding Adam's gaze. "Because it was a ridiculous thing to say. Just because a person is utterly devoted to someone, it doesn't make them a servant."

"What does it make them then?"

Brad looked smug. "Married."

"You ass." Adam made a half-hearted swipe at him, but Brad was out of reach. 

"Permission to sit, Highness?" The lightness in his tone revealed his teasing; they rarely went in for protocol like this, even though Brad was strict in enforcing it among others. Adam gave him a regal wave and Brad lowered himself into another chair. "So, are you going to tell me all about your wondrous evening or do I have to get it all from Allison, who I have on good authority was listening at the door?"

"So I have to apologize to her, too?"

"If I were you, I'd compose a sonnet in apology and recite it at breakfast."

Adam groaned. He stood up. "Best go face the music. You know, if I were a better prince, I'd let you all be miserable without my assumed love."

"You are a good prince," Brad said quietly. "You will be a good king."

Adam didn't face him, not wanting Brad to see his reaction to that statement. "Well. It's a shame I'll never be able to be a king to anyone except you." Their Majesties had not officially changed the line of succession to skip him, but Adam had no intention of taking the throne. How could he be a king if he refused to be seen? Swallowing the lump in his throat, he headed for the leisure room, where he was certain to find Allison curled up with a book and one of the castle's many cats--all left behind by former occupants, which Allison refused to let Adam "set free" into the town--and Sir Michael polishing his rarely used armor.

#

Cowell gave Bella Rosa five stars, his highest rating. Kris's mother sent Daniel out to purchase a frame so they could hang it in the front window. "We must be perfect now, Kristopher. People will expect more from us."

"We've always been perfect." Kris spoke with confidence. "Last night was no different from any other. You've done an amazing job with this restaurant's legacy."

She cupped his cheek. "It will be yours one day to continue." Turning, he kissed her hand. She smiled at him and let him go.

Daniel left him alone until after the lunch rush, then he followed Kris into the walk-in crisper. "So, spill."

"Spill what?"

"Who you’ve been running off to see."

"It's none of your business."

"I'll tell mom."

"Tell her what?"

"That you've got a bit on the side and it might not be a girl. What's she going to think of that?"

"I've been giving music lessons. That's all it is."

Daniel pulled back, disappointed. "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?"

"My student is, he's shy, and I think he might be embarrassed if anyone knew."

Daniel put his arm around Kris's shoulders. Kris continued inspecting heads of lettuce and dropping them into the basket he had balanced on his hip. "I'm not anyone. I'm your brother. Is he paying you well?"

"I'm doing it pro bono."

"One of your charity cases." As Kris expected, Daniel lost interest. "Look, do you really not like girls?"

"I have nothing against them."

"But you don't want to date them?"

"No."

"Did you get dumped or something? Because I can find you a nice one."

"I didn't get dumped. I just… I'm not interested."

Daniel frowned. "Do you want me to find you a boy? It's not my gig, but I'll make an effort."

"No thank you."

"I don't mind."

"Daniel. No."

"Fine." Daniel raised his hands in his normal "Kris is hopeless" gesture and moseyed out of the crisper. Kris tossed a few more lettuce heads into the basket and gave them to his vegetable apprentice to cut into wedges. 

After closing the restaurant for the night, he arrived at the castle gate with ten minutes to spare. With his peach cobbler double insulated inside its pan and carrier, he was determined to avoid a spill tonight. He made Sir Michael take the horses at a slow pace. "It'll be worth it, I promise," Kris said when Sir Michael grumbled. "You've never had cobbler like this."

"I've had His Majesty's chef's cobbler," Sir Michael said. Kris colored at that. Of course that would be better, but then Sir Michael muttered, "tasted like a horse had trod on it."

Kris pretended he hadn't heard. Inside the castle, he turned the cobbler over to Allison's eager hands in exchange for his blindfold. "Are we in the piano room again?"

"Mitchel requests that you begin without him," Lord Brad said. "If you'll follow me." Without waiting for an answer, he started down the hall. Kris hurried to catch up. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"No." Lord Brad walked faster, face set like stone. 

"He's shy, isn't he?" Kris ignored the denial. He wished his thick boots could make the same sharp tap as Brad's. It was a most intriguing sound. "Does he ever leave the castle?"

"No."

"Maybe if he took some air--my mother says that a person needs air to maintain his health--" He stopped short when Lord Brad turned on him, pivoting on his heel. Wordlessly, Lord Brad shoved the door to the piano room open.

"Mitchel is in the best health," Lord Brad said. "And you'll do well to remember that your place here is not to question his salubriousness."

"Yes. I'm sorry." God, but Lord Brad looked terrible when he was angry. Kris stepped into the room and hurried to the piano. He tied his blindfold on with clumsy fingers, not daring to turn around to see if Lord Brad had left. He began to play while he was still shaking, but soon forgot himself to the music and it wasn't until he felt someone sit beside him that he emerged from his self-imposed spell.

"Shall we start from yesterday?" Mitchel asked.

"Second verse," Kris said. "Second finger."

They practiced until Mitchel could play the first two verses without prompting. 

"Shall I teach you the words?" Kris asked.

"I... I am not confident of my voice."

Kris almost smiled, though there was heartbreak behind it. "All I know of you is your voice, and your voice is beautiful. I'm sure you will have nothing to worry about in your singing voice."

"I would still rather not, but may I hear you sing it?"

"I... I'm not accustomed to someone sitting so near me when I sing."

"A few days ago I knelt at your feet. Shall I do that again?" Mitchel's breath landed on his cheek, inciting an indelicate feeling low in Kris's belly. He had a picture of Mitchel, not a clear picture, but one based on an estimated size and an blurred face, kneeling before him, leaning close to hear the music, so entranced with his hand on Kris's knee, the touch unnoticed in his need to be near. 

"What if we went outside?" Kris asked.

"Outside?" Mitchel again had the hesitancy in his voice, which he'd lacked so far on this visit.

"I'll keep the blindfold on," Kris promised. "But I'm not getting on a horse."

Mitchel laughed. "There is a place we can go. Yes. Let's go outside." He stood and was silent. Kris sat, uncertain what to do. "I'm holding out my elbow to you," Mitchel said.

"Oh." Feeling around for it, Kris grabbed hold. Mitchel guided him up. "Do you need your coat?"

"Yes. And I think we'd better stop by the kitchen."

"What for?"

"I brought cobbler."

"I can't eat fatty foods," Mitchel said. 

Kris pulled up short. "Now look, is the reason you won't let me look at you because you think you're fat? Because if it is, I'm going to be very pissed off, and if you've made me wear this stupid thing because of that—well…"

"I... Kris, please." Mitchel's voice shook. "Please don't make me tell you."

Kris sucked the inside of his mouth. "You've made it clear that I can't make you do anything. The only thing I can do is obey you!"

"I... I don't mean--"

"Let's just go outside." Kris started toward what he assumed was the door because Mitchel had positioned him in a certain direction. "I'll sing for you."

"Kris. Please." Mitchel pulled him until he stopped. "Tell me what's wrong. Why are you angry with me?"

"I don't know! Do you have any idea how strange this situation is for me?" Hot tears gathered on his eyelids, making the blindfold damp and uncomfortable. "You have me wear this blindfold and I have no idea who you are!"

Perhaps realizing Kris's unspoken accusation, Mitchel pulled his arm free from Kris's. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you? Kris, you can't possibly--I swear to you, I would never hurt you."

"You won't let me see you. I won't ask you for that, knowing how you fear it, but you have to know that I'm afraid, too. I'm afraid of _not_ seeing you, and I don't know how much longer I can go just feeling you next to me."

"So what can I do?" Mitchel asked. He sounded broken. "How do I keep you here with me?"

Kris thrust his chin up. "If I can't see you, I want to touch you."

"Touch me?"

"Yes. I want to touch you."

"Um. Naked?"

Kris blushed. "No, er, clothes on is fine." 

Mitchel gave a relieved awkward laugh. "Okay. Good. Um. Now?"

"No time like the present." Kris reached out until he touched Mitchel's hand. He wore skin tight gloves of a soft, supple material. It was of animal origin, but Kris couldn't place it. He moved closer and slid both hands up Mitchel's arms. The gloves disappeared beneath the cuffs of his sleeves, and Kris moved his hands along the outside of Mitchel's shirt. His sleeves were of expensive linen, and at the shoulder they joined with an embroidered vest. Kris fingered along it until he reached the collar and Mitchel's bare neck. His skin felt cool and smooth, lingerings of moisturizer clung to Kris's fingers as he trailed along it. 

Mitchel sucked in a breath as Kris wandered up his jawline and over his face to find high cheeks behind a soft layer of flesh, then up to his eyes, which fluttered closed beneath Kris's exploring hands. His eyebrows were soft, perfect feathers laying along the arch of his eyes, and then a forehead free of lines. The hair next, thick when Kris plunged into it, but each strand was thin and fragile when taken one by one. Mitchel's gasp felt heavier when Kris stroked the back of his head, standing on tiptoes to reach and get his arm to Mitchel's back. He pressed his chest against Mitchel's as he moved down Mitchel's back, feeling the back of the vest and Mitchel's breadth beneath it. He rested his cheek against Mitchel's chest; Mitchel remained still for him, but his breathing seemed forced in its steadiness. 

Kris stopped when Mitchel touched him, one hesitant hand on Kris's back. He breathed in sharply, waiting to be told to step away, but Mitchel's other hand touched Kris as well. It took Kris a moment to realize they were embracing. It was so much the opposite of the joyful full throttle embraces he was accustomed to from his friends and family that he hadn't recognized it. Mitchel made a small frightened noise. Kris rubbed his back and squeezed him until Mitchel squeezed back with such vigor that Kris almost lost his breath. Mitchel released him in under a second, but Kris didn't step away. He continued his journey down to Mitchel's hips, which carried straight down from his waist, unlike Kris's, which had a bit of curve to them. He wondered if he should avoid Mitchel's ass. 

"If I touch your rear, will Lord Brad have me killed?" he whispered.

"Uh, I… um, it'll be okay," Mitchel said. 

"Okay that I'm dead?" Kris asked, but he touched anyway, letting himself linger on Mitchel's round ass, and on the thought that he'd never touched a man--never touched anyone--in this intimate way. Mitchel shuddered against him. 

"Kris." With reluctance, Kris allowed Mitchel to step away. They both stood separate. Kris heard Mitchel struggling to steady his breaths. "I think that we should go outside now."

"Yes," Kris said. He turned away and tried to surreptitiously pat his crotch to determine if his cock made an embarrassing spectacle inside his trousers. "And I think I should I carry my guitar out."

"And I'll carry the cobbler," Mitchel said.

"But, you said--" Then, realizing _why_ Mitchel wanted to carry it, Kris burst out laughing. It seemed he wasn't the only one who desired a bit of extra help with his modesty. Mitchel joined in after a second, and his laughter was so beautiful that Kris longed to hug him again, but when he moved to the place where Mitchel had been, he was no longer there, and Kris grabbed empty air.

#

At first it was an effort to stand still and allow the examination, but if he didn't do it, he risked losing Kris. He held his breath waiting for Kris to find his flaws and understand why he had to wear the blindfold, but Kris touched him in a way that almost felt reverent, and when he rested his head on Adam's chest without fear, Adam had to touch him, too. And then Kris had _embraced_ him. Adam had almost given himself over to tears then, and had to pull away, even though he didn't want Kris to stop. Thank goodness he hadn't. His hand on Adam's ass had been too much, though, both for Adam's mind and his body, and he'd needed to step away to compose himself.

They were in the flower garden now, a league from the spot where Adam had found Kris unconscious. Michael had come too and spread a blanket for them. Muffin, the dog who had found Kris (and probably also caused his fall) nuzzled against him, trying to knock the guitar off Kris's lap and take its place. Michael planted a thin pole into the ground and hung a lantern on it. 

"I think I know you," Kris said. He wrapped an arm around Muffin. Muffin licked his face. "Yeah, I thought so. You're the one who almost killed me, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't have if you'd not illegally scaled the wall," Sir Michael said.

Adam held up a hand, though only Michael could see him. "Can we just agree that Kris's doing that was for the best? Now we've made a new friend."

Kris beamed. Adam wished he could see Kris's eyes, but of course the blindfold was still securely in place. Muffin stood on Kris's legs. She must have thought he was playing when he pushed her because she came back and grabbed at his blindfold with her teeth. Before Adam could shout, Muffin stood a few feet off with the cloth in her mouth, tail wagging as she waited for Kris to chase after her, and Kris stared at Adam.

Adam stared back, waiting for Kris's screams to begin. What other reaction could be there be when faced with an abomination of green skin, scaled like a snake? Adam himself had screamed and wailed upon first glance of his new countenance. Even now, when he dreamed he was normal and woke to find the truth, he wailed in his grief. How horrible, how hideous he was! 

Kris remained silent, his gaze locked on Adam's eyes. And then, in a sudden fluid movement, rolled to his knees, proclaimed, "Your Highness," and touched his forehead to the blanket. 

"I. I." Adam jolted backwards. _He isn't supposed to know._ Looking to Sir Michael for help, Adam ran for the castle. He didn't stop until he was inside and then went directly to Lord Brad.

"He saw! Muffin pulled Kris's blindfold off. He saw me!"

Lord Brad rose from his desk. "I'm having him put down."

"What? You can't put Kris down!" Adam grabbed Brad's arm as he went to pull his rifle down from the wall.

"Not him, the dog."

"No."

"Fine." Brad stopped reaching for the gun. "Well, it's not all bad, is it? I didn't hear any screaming."

"He didn't scream."

"See?" Brad made a pale imitation of a smile. "And he doesn't know you."

"Yes he does. I don't know how, but he recognized me."

"Hmm. Well. What do you want to do?" Brad raised a hand. "And do keep in mind that running to your room in tears is not an option."

"Michael is handling it," Adam said.

"Oh. Well then, problem solved." Brad quirked an eyebrow with a decided lack of amusement. "You're sure you won't allow me to put the dog down, either of them?"

"Quite certain," Adam said.

"Muffin and I thank you for that." Adam turned. Kris stood in the doorway, smiling at him. His shirt was torn and he looked a bit worse for wear with dirt on his face.

"What happened?" Adam started for him, hands outstretched to inspect Kris's face before he recalled that now Kris saw a monster coming towards him. Kris didn't flinch, however. Nevertheless, Adam stopped his approach.

"Sir Michael asked me to leave, and I insisted on being allowed to stay."

"If you've stayed to mock him..." Brad said, leaving his threat unstated. 

"I haven't," Kris said. "May I speak with His Highness alone?"

"No you may not."

Ignoring Brad, Kris took a step closer to Adam. "I recognized your eyes. I saw you when I was fourteen. You closed the door to the palace walls. I was on the sidewalk just outside. I wanted to come in and play with you, as so many of my classmates had, but you looked at me and closed the door."

"I'm sorry," Adam said quietly. "My curse was to begin that night. I had no choice."

"I've prayed for you often over the years. Everyone in the town has. We all love you."

Adam snorted in laughter. "You would love me like this?"

"As a subject, yes. As a man--" Kris stepped closer and laid his hand on Adam's chest. Adam fought the urge to step back and searched for the will to tell Kris that he mustn't touch his prince in such a familiar manner. It had been different before, when they were alone and Kris hadn't known who he touched.

"Hands off the prince!" Lord Brad had no such qualms.

With a smile, Kris dropped his hand, but maintained his close proximity. "As a man, I grew to love you when I was blindfolded, and without it, I still do. Why do you think I came back night after night? It wasn't because Lord Brad ordered me to." He glanced at Brad. "Not only because of that."

"You can see me, right?" Adam asked. He waved his hand in front of Kris's face. 

Kris smiled. "Promise me one thing."

"What?"

"After Lord Brad kills me, see to it my family is comfortable. And that someone feeds my dog."

"Why would Lord Brad kill--?" His question was cut off by Kris's mouth landing on his, Kris's hands in his hair and on his back. Tears fell from Adam's eyes as he succumbed to the kiss, welcoming Kris inside, breathing him in, _needing_ him. Kris held Adam's face as they pulled apart, his lips wet. "Don't kill him," Adam commanded, eyes locked on Kris. 

"Fine," Lord Brad said. "Let's just skirt protocol, shall we? Get cursed and suddenly it becomes permissible to let a commoner suck on your face. What's next? We change the Articles of Parliament? An ice cream machine in the House of Lords?"

"Sounds good to me," Kris said.

"You'll never set foot in the Lords!" Brad stamped his boot. "Gah!" He stormed into the hall.

"You aren't frightened of me?" Adam asked.

"Not even a little," Kris said. "But why didn't you tell me you were cursed? I would have understood."

"Sit down," Adam said. "I'll tell you everything."

#

Kris took a seat in Lord Brad's high-backed chair. Prince Adam--Kris still couldn't believe it--sat opposite him. The prince had a man's features, apart from his green skin. Under the electric lighting, each tiny scale shimmered with color. He wasn't only green, but red and blue and purple. Bits of silver appeared around his eyes. Yes, Kris had recognized those eyes immediately, and in truth the shock that Mitchel was Prince Adam was even greater than the shock of Prince Adam being green. After all the rumors about the missing Prince's fate, seeing him looking relatively healthy, color aside, was a welcome change from what was usually heard about him.

"Well," Prince Adam said, "as you may imagine, it's a long story."

"I don't mind." Kris sat forward, ready to listen.

"No!" Lord Brad came bustling back in, laden down with papers. "No stories, no legends, no anything." He thrust the papers onto his desk and snapped his fingers at Kris. "Get signing."

"What's this?" Kris rose to look.

"Non-disclosures stating you will not reveal what you've seen." He looked pointedly at Prince Adam. "And giving me permission to have you beheaded and your head stuck on a stake if you do."

"Uh," Kris said. "I don't think I want to sign that."

Adam didn't get up from his chair. "Don't worry. We took the stakes down before I was born."

"The axe still works," Brad countered. Kris edged away from him. 

"I'm not going to say anything. No one even knows I've been coming here."

"See?" Adam said. "If Kris was going to tell anyone, he'd have done it when he first saw me by running for the door and summoning the villagers with their torches."

"Oh, now you can joke about it?" Brad threw his hands up. "For ten years it's been nothing but wailing and gnashing teeth, but _now_ you can joke about it?"

"I honestly don't know what else I'm supposed to do." Adam looked at Kris with a fond smile. "He didn't run. My heart is singing."

Kris beamed as they shared a look of sunshine.

"I'm going to vomit," Brad said.

They ignored him. 

"So, story?" Kris asked.

Before Adam could answer, Brad did it for him. "A witch overheard him complaining about being fat and pimply and turned him green."

"I don't understand," Kris said.

"Neither do we," Adam admitted. "She took off and we've been unable to find her."

"No, I mean I don't understand why that was such a big deal. Aren't curses usually laid because you offend a witch? How did that offend her?"

"How did it offend anyone?" Brad demanded. "He was a horrible teenager, horrible! Completely image obsessed--"

"Not surprising," Adam interjected. "No one wants an unattractive prince!"

"You would have outgrown it!" He returned his attention to Kris. "But he wasn't offensive to other people, only himself. So, he complained to the wrong person and she tells him his curse will begin at midnight. And she didn't leave a manual on ending it."

"Well, normally, 'true love's kiss' should turn you back into a... well, ungreen you, I guess. I mean, I hope it doesn't turn you back into a sixteen year old," Kris said. 

"Oh god, me too. The pimples! I thought princes weren't supposed to have those!" Adam rubbed his face. "Say, I'm still green now, aren't I?"

"Yes," Kris said. "What?" He moved over to touch Adam's hair as Adam's face crumpled into depression.

"We kissed. I thought perhaps…. Nevermind. I suppose it's too soon for you to love me."

"Of course it's not too soon! I already told you I love you. Maybe in some other land they don't know true love in an instant, but here we do. If you left the castle you would know that. I do love you. So it must be something else to end the curse." Adam did miss a lot staying inside his walls. Clearly, he had no idea how things worked in the real world. 

"Maybe you're supposed to fuck," Brad said.

"What?" Kris asked. Adam made a choked sound.

"These are modern times. Maybe kissing isn't enough anymore."

"Are you suggesting we engage in intercourse?" Adam sounded more than mildly interested.

"Last I checked, that is what fucking means."

Kris met Adam's gaze. "I'll do anything for you."

"I love you, too" Adam said. "I've felt it for a long time, ever since I first laid eyes on you four nights ago." He reached for Kris's hand, which Kris willingly gave. "Yes. Let's do it."

"Just a second." Brad produced a parchment from his desk and a feather quill pen. "Sign this, both of you."

"What is it?" Kris asked.

"Marriage certificate."

"Marriage what?"

"You," he gestured at Kris, "are not getting any of that," he gestured at Adam's crotch, and you," waving the pen at Adam, "are not besmirching your reputation any further, until you are married to each other."

"I can't get married without my mother here," Kris said. "She'll be furious."

"And weren't you just lecturing me about being with a commoner?" Adam asked. "Now you're ordering me to marry him?" Turning to Kris, he added, "which I will gladly do."

Kris beamed. "As will I."

"Will your mother sign the non-disclosure?" Brad asked.

"Take out the section on beheading her, and I'll ask," Kris said.

"Fine." Muttering to himself, Brad made a few motions with his pen. "Go home and bring her back tomorrow evening. The wedding will be at seven. I'll officiate. We'll get it done early so you two can get started breaking the curse."

"Wonderful," Adam said. He gave Kris a hearty hug. Now that his identity was in the open, he'd lost almost all of Mitchel's shy traits. As soon as Brad left, though, Adam sat down in the chair and fell into silence. "You can decline if you wish. There's no guarantee it will work, and I understand if you don't want to marry someone like me."

"Someone like you?" Kris crouched in front of him and took Adam's hands. "Someone who appreciates me? Who makes me laugh? Who doesn't run away, even when he's frightened?"

"I did run," Adam reminded him. "Which was rude of me."

"Yes it was. But you came back. It took a day, but you did."

"I ran twice. The second time was when I saw you naked with that stupid pot on your head. I thought, 'how beautiful he is', and I couldn't bear the thought of you seeing me and knowing that I'm a... I'm a...."

"You are a thousand shimmering colors. I could go blind taking in how glorious you are," Kris said. He smiled to see pink in Adam's cheeks. "We're getting married tomorrow, and I can't wait."

"Nor can I." Adam pulled Kris forward, breathing the statement into his lips like a secret before his mouth parted and he claimed Kris with unbridled aggression. Kris accepted the kiss, giving back as he received, until he fisted Adam's hair and they rose together, only to fall backwards onto Brad's desk, sending his papers flying.

#

"Kristopher, why won't you tell me what's going on?" Kris's mother hurried along the cobblestone path beside him. She wore her Sunday dress, as Kris had requested, and her nicest sensible shoes. They clomped on the path. Kris had angsted over his closet for an hour before selecting a pair of dark pants, white shirt, red tie, and a dyed green denim jacket.

"Mama, I have to tell you something. I'm in love and I want you to meet him."

"Him?"

"Yes."

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised after all the girls Daniel has set you up with that you've shown no interest in."

"So you don't mind?"

"I love you no matter what."

"Thanks." Kris gave her a quick kiss and hurried on. "We'll be late."

"Late for what?" The sun was starting to set.

"It's my wedding day!" Kris beamed. His mother stopped in her tracks, but it was okay because they were at the castle door. Sir Michael swung it open.

"Ma'am." He tilted his head to Kim.

She turned a wide-eyed look of incredulity to Kris and stepped onto castle grounds. "Kristopher, what is going on?"

"Remember the night I didn't come back when you sent me to ste--" he glanced at Michael. "--borrow fennel from the garden?"

"Yes?"

"Well, that's when I met him."

"Who?"

Kris took a breath. "The prince. I'm marrying the prince today."

Sir Michael caught Kim as she fainted. Slinging her over the back of his horse, he began the trek to the castle with Kris on a horse beside him. 

"Maybe I should have told her while she was seated."

"You think?" Michael asked.

Kim revived on the walk. Michael helped her sit sidesaddle. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

Kris filled her in the best he could, starting with how he'd met the man he was not allowed to see, to the music lessons, and finally learning the man's secret and the truth of his curse. And I knew you would want to be here for my wedding."

"It's a fairytale world we live in, Kristopher. I'm so happy for you."

At the castle, Adam, Lord Brad, and Allison awaited them in the same room as the previous night. Adam wore a velvet tunic with a gold sash across his chest and a long sword at his side. His boots were laced up to his knees and his tan pants were tight to his thighs. A round purse over his crotch gave him a semblance of modesty, but the way it jutted slightly forward provided an indication of power. He wore leather gloves, but his face was uncovered. Kris feared his mother would be unable to control her reaction, but she bowed easily. Adam extended his hand when she rose. 

"Madam. Thank you for coming."

"I am pleased to see you looking well, Your Highness."

"Well?" Adam snorted. "As well as can be."

"You are marrying my son today. Surely that makes you in perfect spirits."

He considered her and a smile spread over his face. "It does. Yes." Kris took that as a cue and happily embraced Adam. "I hope you don't think this is too fast?"

"Kris's father and I married the night we met," Kim said. "One knows when one is in love." She wiped away a wistful tear, and Kris bowed his head to respect his father's memory. 

"Mrs. Allen, if you don't mind, I need you to sign this." Lord Brad pushed forward with his clipboard and feather pen. "It's a non-disclosure agreement stating you will not reveal any details about your son's wedding to the prince, including the fact of the wedding, of the prince's status, of his existence, or of your son's marital status."

"Excuse me?" She looked incredulous.

"I made him remove the part about beheading you if you don't comply," Kris said. Based on his mother's look, this was not as helpful as he'd imagined.

"My eldest is getting married and I'm not allowed to tell anyone? Do you know how long I've been getting a hard time of it from the ladies at church? I don't even enjoy going anymore because all they do is ask when Kris will settle down!"

"I'm sorry, but it has to be this way." Lord Brad was implacable.

"Mama, please." Kris took Adam's hand. "Sign it. I want you to witness my wedding."

"And what about your parents?" Kim turned to Adam. "Don't they want to see you get married?"

"We don't have time," Kris said.

"What does that mean?"

"We think this will reverse Adam's curse."

"Marriage?"

"Not exactly."

"True love's kiss?"

"Well, we tried that." Kris grew uncomfortable.

"Modern times," Lord Brad said.

"Intercourse???" Kim asked.

"Yes," Adam said.

"You are marrying my son so you can have sex with him?"

"That is not the only reason!"

"I want to do it, Mom." Kris said eagerly.

"Then why don't you just do it?"

"Lord Brad has pointed out that to do so would be inappropriate outside of wedlock."

"Your Highness, do your parents love you?"

The question seemed to stun Adam. "Yes. I believe so."

"As a mother, let me tell you that they want nothing more than your happiness, and to _attend your wedding._ Have sex now if you want, but leave the wedding for later when they can attend."

"As for you," she turned to Brad, "you are an advisor, not the prince's ruler. You are to advise him, not admonish him."

Lord Brad gaped at her.

"Maybe we should wait," Adam said. "I'll tell my parents."

"Your Highness, I assure you that is not necessary," Lord Brad said. "I have full authority to authorize a wedding."

"But I'd like to have them here."

Kim rubbed her hands together. "Very good. Now, you boys run off and Lord Brad and I will get started on the details."

"Details?" Kris and Brad asked.

"Oh honey," Kim gestured at Kris. "You aren't wearing that to your wedding. Now run along."

"You'd think I was six," Kris said. He stood in the hall with Adam, who looked equally shocked at his dismissal.

"Did your mother just give us permission to have sex?" Adam asked.

"It felt more like encouragement."

"Do you think it was reverse psychology? Because I don't feel like sex, and I can't remember the last time I didn't have a burning in my loins for you."

"I think there's an ointment for that," Kris said. He blushed, though. "Come on. Let's go practice piano. You can show me what you've learned."

They played for a few hours. Adam was getting better. "You'll be better than me soon."

"Not a chance." Adam kissed Kris's ear. "Will you stay the night?"

"Yes."

Kris said goodbye to his mother as she left to return to the restaurant, though she took her time. Kris didn't rush her; Daniel was an able kitchen-runner, so they had no worries on that account. However, he wished she'd make her exit with haste so he could finally get his hands on Adam. . Lord Brad again told her to keep quiet "or else", and she agreed. Then she said to Adam, "the people miss you. You are far from the only one in this kingdom to be cursed. You will be welcomed back if you choose to make yourself known."

"I... had not considered that," Adam said. He seemed surprised when she kissed his cheek. 

"I hope that you will start." Squeezing his hand, she followed Sir Michael out the door.

"Your mother is awesome," Allison said.

"Yeah," Kris answered, but he kept his focus on Adam, who gazed wistfully after her. Adam turned suddenly.

"Ready for bed?"

"Yeah." Kris's desire showed in his voice. He ignored Allison's delighted catcalling as Adam pulled him down the hall. "Does everyone know we're making love tonight?"

"I think there was something about it in the castle newsletter." Kris laughed until Adam pulled a broadsheet off his night stand. It was still warm from being ironed. "Here it is."

_Prince Adam and Commoner to Engage in Intercourse_

"That was fast," Kris said.

After noticing Lord Brad's name on the byline, Kris didn't bother reading the article. Adam looked apologetic. "Lord Brad started putting them out when he tired of my complaining about the news from outside. He suggested that we make our own news. Only the four of us see it. Allison has a column on the back on Wednesdays."

Kris burst into laughter. "I don't know what to think of that." 

Adam shrugged. "I have a special group of friends here. And now I have you." Stepping closer, he pulled Kris's collar back and bared his neck. "I wanted to thank you for, for allowing me this privilege with you."

"Adam." Kris pulled him down and kissed him. "Make love to me."

Adam's tunic came off with a simple tug. Kris's shirt and jacket were a more difficult matter, but the real terror was Adam's boots. In the end, he left them on and shoved his tights down as far as he could. Kris slid his leg between Adam's to touch their cocks together. Like the rest of him, Adam's cock and scrotal sac were green. He giggled. 

"What?" Adam asked.

"I was wondering if your come was green."

"It's clear. Why? What's yours like?"

Kris grinned. "You'll have to see."

"Clear, with a touch of white," Adam declared a few minutes later as he held up his hand and examined the strings of come hooking his fingers together like webbing. 

"How do you think we should do this?" Kris asked. "Does it matter who tops in order to break the curse?"

"Maybe we should do it both ways," Adam said. 

"That could take all night. Which I am okay with. I need a few minutes before you can touch me again, though."

"Me too. But these boots have to go." With renewed vigor, they tugged at the laces until they loosened enough to get the boots removed. The moment they clomped onto the floor, Adam flung himself into Kris's embrace. Because Adam had not yet come, they chose to slick Kris first, using his own come. Adam worked blunt fingers inside him. Kris forced him to slow a few times.

"I'm sorry. It's my first time," Adam said. "Eagerness is difficult to manage when I have such a goal ahead of me."

"Understandable," Kris said from his position with his face against his arm, "but try not to be so rough."

"Sorry." Adam finally was able to stretch Kris enough that Kris could accommodate him. The lovemaking itself was rushed, but the initial hurt soon eased into something that was almost pleasant. Kris arched backwards, yearning for more of Adam inside him, although he was buried to his hilt. Adam held him by the hips, leaving marks of his love with his fingers. Kris shuddered in surprise upon feeling Adam's come fill him. Twisting around, he kissed Adam. 

They lay together for a few moments as Adam's come leaked from him before Kris nudged Adam's legs apart and began to stretch him. Having nothing to use but the come in his ass, and not finding that to be desirable--or anything he wanted to touch--Kris spat on his fingers. "I'm smaller, it'll be okay," he promised. He took his time and wetted and stretched Adam as best he could until Adam pushed towards him and begged. 

Kris eased inside him, wincing because it was still tight and he was short of spit. His cock began to dribble its own lubricant. Pulling out, Kris circled the tip around Adam's hole, which aided in his next intrusion. He made love to Adam slowly and came in him as Adam shuddered beneath him, calling his name. "We broke the curse. I can feel it. I know it, Kris." Adam smiled. Kris had never seen him so happy, but his lip wavered, and betrayed his underlying fear.

Kris smiled back, trying to keep his own lip still.

After cleaning themselves, Adam changed into a night shirt. He handed one to Kris. Whereas Adam's stopped at his knees, the night shirt hit Kris around his ankles. Ignoring Adam's amused smirk, Kris climbed into bed. They lay together in silence for a few minutes. Adam broke it first. 

"Did your mother mean what she said? About people not caring that I've been cursed?"

"My mother always means what she says." Kris stroked Adam's hair. 

Adam didn't say anything more after that. Kris wanted to stay awake to see if they'd broken the curse, but after murmuring a silent prayer for Adam, he fell asleep as if God had reached down and closed his eyes.

In the morning, he woke to see Adam sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped. "Adam?"

Tears spilled from Adam's eyes and ran down his cheeks. His green cheeks. "It didn't work."

Kris scrambled forward. "I still love you. I still want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?" Fear teased him that Adam had only wanted him to test his theory about breaking the curse. But then Kris wouldn't be Adam's true love, if he was only a ruse for curse-testing. He shook the worry away. 

Adam pursed his lips and nodded. "Yes. I want to marry you, Kris. I love you."

Kris wiped Adam's tears away. "Okay. So stop crying. Because you're getting married to me."

In response, Adam embraced Kris. He made a small, disbelieving laugh. "I'm getting married to you."

"Yeah. So no more feeling sorry for yourself. Let's go see what torture Lord Brad has planned for us today."

"You mean what he plans for you. As prince, I'm exempt from his whims." Adam rose to his feet with fluid grace--and almost sent Kris tumbling to the floor. Kris caught himself and waved off Adam's attempt to catch him. 

"We'll see," Kris said, picking up his pants.

#

"What?" Adam held the pen poised over the piece of stock cardboard stationery as he looked up in response to Lord Brad's disapproving noise.

"Nothing," Lord Brad said, "I simply wondered if you had forgotten everything about your penmanship."

Adam glanced at the letter he'd started. 

_For the pleasure of their Majesties, my beloved parents, His Regal Majesty Eber Lambert and Her Treasured Majesty Leila Lambert, Your lost son humbly begs forgiveness for his absence in your lives and begs to rectify that with this note._

"My penmanship is fine."

"Is it? Is that how you make a T? At a forty-five degree angle?"

"It's jaunty."

"And where is the loop on that Y? It looks like something flattened it!" He snatched the card away. Adam caught it before Brad ripped it to shreds. 

"I'm not starting over again."

"Fine. But I won't be fielding the blame for this." 

From the chair in the corner, where Kris had retreated, Kris muttered, "Sure, he won't torture _you_." Brad's head whipped around at that, and he beckoned Kris forward with a curled finger.

"You. Come with me."

Kris rose cautiously. "Why?"

"You're going to try on suits." He ran a disinterested eye down Kris's body. "Between his handwriting and... _you_ , I have my work cut out for me to make this wedding be anything other than a massive embarrassment."

"Your faith in us is greatly appreciated." Adam rose partway from the desk to offer Brad a sardonic bow. Brad grabbed Kris's elbow and ushered him out, complaining under his breath about being turned into a wedding planner. Adam returned his attention to the letter. After a moment of consideration, he dropped it into the trash along with the others and started again. 

_Dearest Parents,_

_I have met someone who fills my heart with joy and it is my greatest wish to receive your blessing that we may be betrothed. He is a simple man, but one of great strength of mind and character, who did not balk upon seeing my face. Nor did he run to spread the news. Rather, he ran into my arms. I have met his mother, who is likewise a fine woman, and it was she who insisted I should notify you before running in haste to marriage._

_Pray tell me you will approve._

_I remain_

_Your loving son,_

_Adam, Prince of Elwin, Duke of Caberlandia_

This one would have to do. He closed it up and affixed his seal. Sir Michael would take it out with his mail run, and then he'd only have to wait for their reply. He walked along the halls, debating whether he should rescue Kris from Brad. Pausing to wipe sweat from his brow, he reflected again on how disappointed he'd been to awaken and find himself unchanged. He had no other options in mind to break the curse. Perhaps he would be this way forever. He didn't want to accept it, but that could be so. He'd remained inside his castle for a decade, letting the people think all manner of fates for him--all except the correct one. 

Could he expect Kris to disappear from the outside as well? He'd never asked Kris about his life outside. He clearly had a family. Did he have friends as well? A pang of guilt struck him. How could they be married? He knew nothing about Kris. He'd been so obsessed with himself that he hadn't bothered to ask. What kind of husband would he make? With renewed resolve, Adam sprinted down the halls towards the closets where he expected to find Brad and Kris.

#

Kris looked at his reflection with suspicion. Lord Brad had dressed him in a gray suit with a white shirt and cravat beneath it. Its frilled sleeves poked out of the bottom of the jacket's sleeves. "It doesn't feel like me." He'd said the same thing about the two previous suits, which now lay crumbled on the carpeted floor.

"Here." Lord Brad turned him around--touching gently now that expensive fabric was in play--and poked a folded handkerchief into Kris's front pocket. "This will make it all better." He stepped aside so Kris could see the mirror.

"Very funny." Kris tugged the plaid fabric out of his pocket. He tossed it at Brad, who sat down with a defeated thump in the chair.

"We can be here all day. You have to choose one."

"I still don't understand why I can't wear my own clothes."

Lord Brad raised his gaze in disbelief. "Because you are getting married. And when we get married, we do not wear our own clothes. We wear clothes that make us look good, rather than clothes that make people question our betrothed's taste in us."

Kris sighed. He stared at himself again. "Fine. I'll wear it."

"Thank you."

"You look amazing!" Kris turned at Adam's entrance. Lord Brad flung himself between them. 

"It's bad luck to see him before the wedding!"

"That's only for women. Kris is no woman." Adam stepped up to him, and Brad escaped before he was crushed between them. Kris welcomed Adam's kiss and his strong hand on Kris's back, drawing him closer. He nudged a leg between Kris's thighs, as if seeking to prove his statement. Kris rocked against him as Adam pulled noises from him.

Brad made his own noises, though of dismay. "Do not ruin that suit!"

Adam, for once, listened, and broke away. He held Kris by his shoulders. "I came in to talk to you."

"You're not canceling the wedding, are you?" Kris forced himself to laugh, but as he looked into Adam's eyes, he wondered if that was it.

"No. But, I do have a request."

"Which is? You know I'd do anything for you."

"I want you to tell me everything about yourself. About your life outside."

"Why?"

"Because I can't ask you to leave your life without knowing what it is."

Kris stepped backwards. "You would ask me to leave it? My friends? My family? The restaurant?"

"I..." Adam wiped his face, clearly flustered. "I thought, I mean, I realized, that I hadn't thought it through. I've given no consideration of how you might prefer to proceed after we are wed, considering my circumstances that prevent me from leaving the castle."

Kris reached for Adam's hand as compassion melted his caution away. "I'll tell you about my life. But as I do, you should keep in mind that your curse doesn't prevent you from leaving. You do." Adam dropped his gaze. When he looked at Kris again, his eyes had hardened, but he nodded his agreement.

"Can I request that you remove your wedding suit first?" Lord Brad tugged on Kris's jacket.

Adam stepped away. "I'll meet you in my private quarters." Kris listened to his footsteps receding as Lord Brad undressed him and thrust Kris's clothes at him.

"You know," Brad said, "This is the most consideration he's shown anyone. I can see from your face that you're sour at him for expecting you'd remain in the castle."

"He can't expect me to give up my life."

"Why not? Everyone else here has. And what kind of life did you really have out there?"

"Better than one where I'm trapped between walls," Kris snapped. "Why would anyone choose that?"

Brad looked taken aback and then answered with cold clarity. "We choose it because he is here and we are loyal to him."

Kris finished buttoning his jeans. "So am I. But that doesn't mean I'll stay inside."

He walked away before Brad could respond. As he approached Adam's quarters, he decided on a new goal: take the prince out.

#

Adam looked mildly embarrassed when Kris walked into the room. He sat at his desk, but rose to greet Kris. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," Kris said. "I hadn't thought of that aspect of our future either. I do have a job, you know. Two of them between the restaurant and the music lessons."

"You give others lessons?" Kris caught a hint of jealousy in Adam's voice.

"I teach at the college once a week."

"Oh." Adam remained tense, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. 

"Hey." Moving forward, Kris touched Adam's arm. "I want you to meet my friends."

"I can't leave."

Kris let his arm fall. " _Is_ it part of the curse? Are you trapped here?"

"I'm hideous, Kris. I won't go outside."

"But don't you want to?"

"Like this? No."

Kris stepped away to give himself room to think. Adam moved back to his chair. He sat in silence. "I've got it," Kris said. "We'll go out when it rains. You wear a hood and a scarf. No one will see your face."

"As Henry V walked among his men in France?"

"Yes."

Adam looked towards the window at the perfect weather outside. "So we need only wait for rain."

"In the meantime," Kris twined his fingers with Adam's, "I'll tell you about the people I want you to meet." For the next hour, he told Adam stories of the restaurant, the people who worked there, and his friends Cale and Ryland, who played music with him. He hesitated trying to think of how to describe his brother Daniel, but in the end said that Daniel supported him.

Adam listened mostly in silence, asking questions from time to time. "I hope I can meet them," he said when Kris indicated he'd finished. "But there's something else we can do while we wait for rain."

"Sex?" Kris asked. 

"Cooking," Adam corrected. "Allison has been dying to get you in the kitchen."

"Oh, yes," Kris laughed. "I did promise her. Should we get her now?"

"I think we'd better."

They walked down to the kitchen together and found Allison at the table with a book. As they walked in, a cat leapt off a shelf and ran between them.

"Allison, I told you to keep the cats out of the kitchen," Adam said.

"Sorry, Your Highness. She must have snuck in." 

"Anyway," Adam said, "Kris is here to do your bidding."

Allison's eyes lit up, so Kris jumped in. "What the prince means is, I'm here to teach you how to cook one of Bella Rosa's signature dishes. I was thinking," he glanced at Adam, "that we would do fennel soup, since that is what brought me to you."

"Wonderful!" Allison said. "Let's go get some!" Grabbing a basket from a hook near the door, she stood beside it and waited for Kris to follow. 

"Sorry," Adam said, "I don't go out in the day. Have fun without me."

"But you'll be here when I'm cooking?" Kris asked. "You want to learn to, don't you?"

Adam looked uncertain. "I'm not much of a cook."

"I taught you piano, didn't I?" Kris squeezed his arm.

"Fine. I'll be here. But hurry back. I get bored waiting."

"We'll hurry." Allison tugged Kris out the door. When they were a few lengths from the door, she said, "He means he doesn't wait. First in line to the throne, he's never had to wait."

"Is he still...?" 

"Still the heir apparent? He's never been declared dead and his parents have never made a motion to allow Prince Neil to advance above him."

"But what would they do if he refused to be seen in public? He couldn't be king."

"I don't know." Allison plopped down at the edge of the fennel patch. "Their majesties have always expressed hope to him that he would come out of his hermitage."

"So they support him?"

"Oh yes. They're very loving parents. You'll like them. Prince Adam drove them away. They did try, but well, he was a terror when he first turned. I was very young then, and he was even terrible to me. But my mother stuck beside him. She was the head housekeeper until a few years ago."

"What happened?" Kris knelt too and began plucking fennel and knocking dirt off each one before dropping it in the basket. 

"She married and moved into town."

"Do you think I'm doing the wrong thing trying to get him outside? I want to show him that he can enjoy his life," Kris said.

"I think you're the right person for it." Allison gave him a smile and returned to her work. 

With the basket half-full, they returned to the castle. Adam wasn't at the table. "Took too long." Allison set the basket down. "I'll ring the bell and see if he comes."

Kris raised an eyebrow. "The heir apparent can be summoned by a bell?"

"Beats shouting," Allison said. She tugged on the thick rope cord, which sent a pealing of bells through the castle. "Now we wait."

Kris began cleaning the fennel. After a few minutes, he heard the distinctive sound of Lord Brad's boots approaching. "Uh oh," he mouthed at Allison as Lord Brad burst in.

"What's going on? Are we under siege?"

"We're giving His Highness a cooking lesson," Allison said brightly, "but he's not here."

Brad blinked as his face registered slow understanding. "So, you thought you would summon him with a bell?"

"Yes." Allison stood her ground.

"You!" Brad whirled on Kris, finger out and accusing him. "Protocol has gone to the dogs since you arrived you, you, common thief!"

"This isn't my fault," Kris said. 

"It's okay, I'm here." Adam touched Brad's shoulder, and almost made him leap in surprise. Brad turned and, using his clipboard, tried to herd Adam out of the room. 

"The next in line to the throne does not come when beckoned like a dog. Return to your quarters and I will make a formal request for your attendance in the kitchen. Or, no, we will bring the kitchen to you!"

Adam stepped around him. "Sit down, Brad. Kris is going to teach us how to cook." He sat down beside Kris and gave him a big smile. After a great deal of grumbling, Brad sat down on the opposite end of the table. 

"All right," Kris said. "So, we have the fennel, and Allison is boiling water...."

#

Sir Michael rode hard towards the north country with the prince's letter in his pocket. He had to bring it to the royal family and receive a reply before he returned. He wore his chain mail and crest, but it was more for show than protection. The land hadn't seen war in close to five hundred years. As he passed through the streets, mouths fell open, such was the rarity of a knight. Michael ignored them all and spurred his horse forward. With two hundred miles to cover and little time, he didn't stop even to eat. Only when his horse began to falter did he ease his pace and walk it to a riverbank. There he found a boy tending a herd and traded his horse for another.

"Are you a knight?" The boy asked, wide-eyed.

"I am." Michael ruffled the boy's head. "Take good care of my horse. I'll be back for it tomorrow." Then, switching his saddle to the new horse, he rode again. 

He liked Kris. He hadn't expected to, but the thief had grown on him. He had a vulnerability about him that made him a good match to Prince Adam. Perhaps Prince Adam would be less afraid of himself with Kris beside him. The others thought that the prince's woeful and enraged reaction to his circumstances and loneliness were due to anger, but Sir Michael was the only one who had faced battle--he'd had to travel to his father's homeland to engage in it--and he understood that fear manifested itself in many ways.

As a youngster, Prince Adam had been a cheerful, sociable fellow. He was a little stuck up, but considering his position, he wasn't nearly as horrid as he might have been. Then puberty hit--cruel thing--and his confidence dived until he cut off his play dates and shut himself away, tantrums growing and growing as the once rambunctious boy became a terror.

And then the witch. She had been young, looked young, anyway, and at that point all Prince Adam did was complain. Lord Michael had been in the room when the witch laid her curse on him. She'd simply touched his forehead, reaching out as though laying down a blessing, and the prince, accustomed to such activities, had let her. Then she'd told him the curse would set in before morning's light. 

They'd tried to stop it, but in the end, King Eber had ordered the doors barred. It was a precaution; the witch hadn't said what form the curse would take.

Hours later, the first screams rang through the castle. Sir Michael had sprinted to the prince's door, but Her Majesty had outrun him. Sir Michael made it inside the prince's bedroom. Her Majesty had stopped halfway to the bed and stared at the green creature in the prince's clothes, his tunic half-torn off from the prince's terror upon discovering his new state. He turned wild eyes upon Sir Michael, but they were still the prince's eyes. With his last resolve before he succumbed to shock, Sir Michael slammed and bolted the door. 

Now he entered the northern city where the royal residence was. He slowed his horse to a respectable walk and made his way up the main road, at the end of which was the castle. At a certain point, the sentry would see him, so he hoisted his flag that word would go to their majesties and they would expect him. 

Indeed, he was ushered into the receiving room with only a few seconds spared to knock the dust from his boots as a stablehand took his horse away to be brushed, fed, and watered. Their majesties sat on their thrones. Sir Michael went to one knee, and, upon being bidden to rise again, found the queen rushing towards him. "What's happened? Is the prince alright? Why are you here?"

"It is good news, my queen." He couldn't believe how it lightened his chest to say that. He pulled the letter from his satchel. "A letter from your son, Prince Adam."

"A letter?" The queen turned to His Majesty, now crushing it in her hands. The king rushed forward and stood huddled with her. Sir Michael heard the breaking of the seal and tearing as the letter was opened. A moment later, they turned to him.

"You know this person he intends to wed?" The king asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Kristopher Allen is the son of one of our restaurant owners. He has been a good friend to the prince since they met almost one week ago."

"Is their love true?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is."

The king beamed and embraced the queen. Pulling away, he beckoned his man forward. "Sinclair, prepare the carriage. We leave for the south country tonight!"

"Hurry home," The queen said, "and tell the castle to expect us."

"Take a few moments to eat and rest before you go," the king said. 

"I shall set off within the hour." Sir Michael bowed and stepped backwards to symbolize not turning his back on his rulers, before rushing from the room. He hadn't expected their majesties to drop everything, but it came as little surprise. They were devoted to their son, that much was apparent in the way they continued to provide for him, even though he shunned their expectations as he wallowed in his misery. Sir Michael didn't think much of the prince's behavior and his self-pitying, but his strengths lie in his loyalty, and so he kept his mouth shut.

He took a snack of a cold meat sandwich and cheese in the kitchen and then, setting his socked-feet on the table, had a short snooze. He woke up to the stable boy touching his shoulder. The boy jumped back when Michael's hand went to his hip, in search of his scabbard, which he hadn't worn in years. "Is my horse ready?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said. He held out his hand. Standing, Michael found a coin to drop in it.

The horse waited for him outside the door, its reins tied to a ring in a post. Sir Michael untied it, pulled himself into the saddle, and spurred it forward. He rode quickly home, stopping to exchange his horse at the riverbank.

"You said you'd be back tomorrow," said the confused boy. "I haven't had the chance to show my friends the knight's horse. Now they'll think I was lying!" The boy looked sour.

"Here." Sir Michael handed him a coin with his crest printed on it. "Show them this. It's more proof than a horse."

"Thank you!" The boy waved, coin tight in his hand, as Sir Michael rode away.

Sir Michael rode onto castle grounds with the moon high on his back. He stepped into the kitchen to the most delicious scents.

"You're here!" Allison hurried towards him and helped him out of his chain mail. "Did you see their majesties?"

"Yes." Taking a moment to catch his breath, he unlaced his boots and stepped out of them. "They're coming."

"They're coming?" The high, stunned response came not from Lord Brad, as expected, but from the prince, who Sir Michael had not noticed at the stove, possibly... _stirring_? "Tonight?"

Sir Michael brushed sweat off his head, trying to put his hair in order. "Yes, Your Highness. They are pleased to hear you have found love. I believe they wish to meet Kris." He turned to Kris, who had taken in his return and news in silence. 

"They want to meet me? I..." He looked at Adam, desperation in his clenched fists. "I don't know how to behave!"

"Don't worry." Adam smiled. 

"As long as I'm with you, I'll be fine?" Kris sounded hopeful.

"Oh no," Adam said. "Lord Brad is going to tell you exactly how to behave so you don't accidentally offend them." He waved Brad forward.

Kris turned to him, looking terrified. Adam laughed, clearly enjoying the situation. "You'll be fine, Kris. They haven't hung anyone for breaking protocol... yet."

Lord Brad muttered under his breath. Taking Kris by the wrist, he dragged him off.

"That was mean," Allison said.

Prince Adam waved her concern away. "It'll keep his mind off worrying."

"And where is your mind?" Sir Michael asked. "Are you worried?"

"A bit. But it has to be a good thing they're coming, right? Did they seem pleased?"

"They were thrilled."

"Good." Prince Adam smiled in relief. "Thank goodness."

#

Daniel couldn't put his finger on it, but something had happened. Kris hadn't been at the restaurant for his shift, but instead of worry, their mother took over, her face bearing a contended smile, and when Daniel got close to her, he heard a cheerful hum. "Do you have anything to tell me, Mom?"

She looked at him, blinking in surprise, before regaining her placid expression. "Kris is taking a few days off."

"He dropped this on us out of the blue?" Daniel's temper rose. "He gets to be irresponsible now that he's head chef?"

"Daniel."

Daniel picked up a pair of fresh plates and carried them out to the waiting guests. For all the work he did, he never had the privilege of taking off at his own will. He set the plates down with a smile and returned to the kitchen too distracted to notice that the young woman had smiled back. Kris had been acting strangely for the past week. Daniel accepted he was dealing with his sexuality and this mysterious new student, but now their mother seemed to be in on it as well. A strange thing happened when a messenger delivered a note to her. He refused to hand it anyone but her. However, he made no attempt to hide its seal and Daniel clearly saw the crest of the royal family. Kim carried it to a private corner and opened it. She read it quickly, held close to her chest, and shoved it into her apron pocket.

"What was that?" Daniel asked.

"Catering request," she said.

Daniel put his hand out. "Then shouldn't I see it?"

"No, dear, no need to bother yourself with it in the planning stages."

Daniel avoided mention of it for the rest of the night as a plan formed in his head.

He followed his mother home, intent on seeing where she would go. He stumbled and hid against the side of a house when she walked to the castle walls and the door opened for her. It closed immediately, but he'd seen the gloved hand beckon her inside. Daniel ran up the hill where the ground on the other side of the wall grew mossy and soft, and, with years of experience behind him doing this same activity, launched himself up and over in silence. He landed without a sound and rolled down the hill. Sitting up, he brushed off his arms and legs and crept towards the castle. A lantern danced in the air ahead, lighting two horses. He recognized his mother's shape on one. Keeping himself parallel to them, he moved in silence. Upon reaching the castle, he hid behind a tree and watched his mother and her companion enter.

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness to allow him to examine the walls for footholds. Having planned his route, he darted forward and began to climb. His goal was a window three stories up that was cracked open. He poked his head over the ledge and, seeing no one, edged it open and pulled himself inside. He took shelter immediately, even though the room was dark. From his position behind a large chair, he had a clear route to both the door and the window. After a few moments to calm his breathing, he moved to the door, listened, opened it by a sliver, looked, and slid into the hall. He heard talking in one direction, including his mother's voice, and went that way. 

He hid himself the best he could by flattening himself against the wall outside the room. He glanced around, tilting his head as much as he dared. He counted five people. He recognized Kris and his mother by their voices. Then there was a smaller man, who wore severe boots and held a clipboard tucked against his hip. He didn't speak, but Daniel could tell by his carriage that he was important. One man had his back to Daniel, but he commanded the others' attention. Daniel's mother was smiling. Daniel concentrated on listening.

"I fully give my blessing to this union," the man said. "Adam has expressed his love to me, and his mother and I approve."

"Oh, thank you," Kim said.

Daniel suppressed a gasp. Was his mother to marry again?

Then the voice that must be Adam's spoke. "Kris and I will make you proud, Father."

 _Kris_? Kris was getting married? _Who was this Adam? Wait--logic. Use your logic. Adam had to be the prince. He was in the prince's castle; what other option was there?_ Daniel, braver, leaned forward more. He now had a full view of the people in the room. He recognized the man as King Eber. He leaned back again. He could be accused of spying on the king, a treasonable offense. Breathing sharply, he struggled to calm himself. He looked again. He saw Adam this time, the back of him. 

The prince was alive.

And his brother was about to marry him. Daniel fumbled his phone out of his pocket. He poked it around the corner and snapped a photo. Then he ran. He flew out the window and down the wall, sprinted across the castle garden and launched himself over the wall. He forced himself to walk, hands shoved in his pockets, after landing. He listened for the sounds of pursuit, but heard nothing, not even the dogs.

The dogs hadn't bothered him at all. Where had they been? He didn't stop until he was safe inside his house. Then he looked at the photo. He gasped as he saw what he'd accidentally captured. He'd meant to use the picture as proof that Prince Adam was alive, to expose the conspiracy of the royal family, who he'd suspected for years were hiding their son in order to position Prince Neil on the throne. Neil's liberal attitudes, particularly towards the fairytale creatures that lived in the woods--though Daniel had never seen them and wasn't sure he believed--rubbed Daniel the wrong way, and he didn't want Neil on the throne, even if it was largely a symbolic position. 

He stared at the picture. The prince had turned and was beaming at Kris. He looked delighted, as did Kris. However, Daniel couldn't get past the glaring truth that faced him. Prince Adam had the skin of a snake.

Daniel squeezed the phone until he couldn't stand to touch it and tossed it across the table. It skidded to a stop against the empty fruit bowl. His brother was not marrying _that_. Daniel grabbed up the phone again, forced his fingers to stop shaking, and posted the photo on his twitter account. He wrote, "Prince Adam is alive, and he's a monster about to marry my brother. We must stop him." He hesitated before pushing send. He couldn't let rage control him. Clearing his head, he considered Kris's future. Whatever Kris had done, this clearly was linked to some blackmail the night he'd gone to get the fennel. Since then, he'd been secretive, and obviously this was why. The monster was forcing him to return to his cursed lair night after night. Daniel almost screamed to think of it. He pushed "send". Collapsing on a chair, he stared at his phone to await a response.

Within seconds, he saw the first retweet, then another, and replies trickled in one by one. He stayed awake the next two hours, adrenaline driving away his weariness, and typed out his responses and explanations to each one. Many didn't believe him, even with the picture right there, and a few accused him of discriminating against the cursed, but Daniel shot those down with responses that he was looking out for his brother.

Then a reporter from a national paper retweeted the photo, adding their caption, "Is this Prince Adam?" and a link to Daniel's post. Daniel shook with an emotion he couldn't place, as it was between fear and excitement. He turned his phone off and tried to sleep, but after hours of tossing and turning, he awoke to find his voicemail full and Twitter crashed.

More importantly, he found Kris in his room, his face red. "What have you done?" Kris landed on him, and shook him by the shoulders. "Daniel! What the hell have you done?"

Daniel shoved him off. "I did what was best for you. You can't marry... that!"

Kris punched him. Daniel shoved him away again. "You don't know him! He's not a monster! He's gone for almost his whole life thinking he was hideous. I'd almost convinced him he was wrong, I'd almost convinced him to reveal himself, and you go and do this! You've ruined everything!"

"I did it for you!" Daniel knew better than to reach for Kris while he breathed out rage, but that made his plea no less plaintive. "You have to believe me, Kris. I know what I'm doing!"

Kris backed towards the door. "You're out of my life. You hear me? I don't want to see you again."

"Kris! Kris! He's brainwashed you!" Daniel leapt to his feet, but the sheets tangled in his legs slowed him, and by the time he reached the door, Kris was gone. Daniel stood in the doorway, looking into the street, which showed no sign of him. A neighbor looked at him curiously, and he realized he was naked. He slammed the door on her gaze. 

He'd fucked up. Big time.

#

Lord Brad pounded on Prince Adam's door as the king and queen paced outside it, their faces tense. "Your Highness, please open the door!"

The wailing that emerged--formerly limited only to after nightfall--rivaled any from the prince's first days of the curse. He'd fled to his room and slammed the door when the shouting from outside the castle walls grew strong enough to be heard through the stone walls. "Monster!" they said, and "We demand the prince!" Over and over they shouted until the words overlapped, becoming "The Monster Prince, we demand!"

The prince had been confused at first, but Sinclair, the king's man, had checked the news on his phone and asked if Kris or his mother knew someone named Daniel. A pin drop could have been heard. 

"What did he do?" Kris kept his rage tight against his chest, which Lord Brad would have appreciated if he hadn't been ready to run Kris through with his sword.

Sinclair relayed the story. Kris sputtered apologies and went running from the room. Prince Adam looked stunned. "If you'd let me punish him in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," Lord Brad said, which didn't seem to help any, but he felt better for it. 

The queen had suggested that Mrs. Allen should leave as well, and she'd done so under Sir Michael's escort. The prince hadn't spoken, brushing off any efforts at comfort, until the shouting began and he fled to his quarters, where they'd all been gathered outside since then, trying to calm him without effect.

#

Adam tore his clothes and flung his gloves to the floor. Outside, the shouting continued. Growing hoarse from his own screams, he lay down on the bed and pressed a pillow over his ears. Tears rolled freely down his hideous face. He was glad to have no mirrors in the room. He hadn't looked at himself in years, relying on Brad to tell him if he'd dressed himself incorrectly. Brad had stopped pounding on his door. Adam rolled onto his back, hands now pressed to his ears. He stared at the ceiling. The chandelier, unlit, hung above him. On the wall, a ring of cherubim danced around the room, content in their innocence.

He had been innocent once. How naive he'd been! Those heady days of his youth when he'd no care except to play with the other children. Rolling in the garden, fighting imagined wars, wrestling with the dogs--all that was over now. Glancing out the window, he wondered if any of those former children stood out there, accusing him of kidnap and rape. He couldn't see them, but occasionally the top of a sign poked above the wall. A range of missiles--bricks and bottles--lay in a cluster, having been lobbed over.

What had happened? His understanding of social media was limited, given the danger he might read something about himself. However, it seemed that his avoiding it had not allowed him to be free of it, and now this _Twitter_ had ruined him. Mrs. Allen had been lying to him, of course, when she'd promised him that people would be open to him. He heard the people--they were outside!--and they were not open!

Returning to his bed, he sat down on the edge. The firm mattress barely dipped beneath his weight. He'd known since the curse that he would never be king. After he'd driven his parents out, they'd never spoken of it, but surely they hadn't intended that he would take the throne. Who would follow a green king? Now Kris had gone, driven out by his common sense at last.

Adam wished that sense had presented itself in Kris in the first place so he wouldn't have this dull pain in his breast where he missed him with such fervor that he struck himself there again and again in a vain attempt to drive the emotion away. Oh, but it was pointless, and he was as much to blame! He'd beckoned Kris to return, he'd been desperate for a friend.

Kris's good nature had been their downfall. Adam should have left him alone. Now Kris was out there, repulsed, and facing the sure knowledge of his family and friends and the public without protection. Adam strode to the door, but stopped as he touched it. Surely he wasn't thinking of going out there? And yet--even if Kris hated him, didn't Adam owe him so much as to speak up for him?

He touched the handle again and, after another hesitation, opened it. The king and queen stood in the hall alone. Upon seeing him, they rushed forward and embraced him. His father kissed him, with more tenderness than when they'd arrived, an occasion which had been more joyous and fraught with enthusiasm. 

"My," the king said. "You have a powerful set of lungs. You get that from your grandfather."

"How do you feel?" The queen attempted to close Adam's tunic, but gave up after the two sides fell open again to expose his entire chest. 

Adam gathered his bravery. He could leave the castle. _He could._ "I... I wish to see Kris."

"Are you sure that's wise? He ran out of here like his feet were on fire."

Adam knew his father wasn't trying to be unkind, but the description made him falter. "Do you think he--was it because of me?"

"I suspect it was because of his brother."

Adam nodded. "Is there any way I can go to him?"

"Do you wish to risk leaving the safety of the castle?" the queen asked.

In the hallway, the shouting was more difficult to hear, but hints of it filtered into their ears. "I'm afraid for him. I wish to go."

"Sir Michael will accompany you." The King stepped backwards, prepared to give the order.

"No. Your Majesty. I'll go alone."

"How?"

"I'll wear a cloak. I'll sneak out."

"Through the door?" His father teased out a smile. 

Adam smiled too. "Father, in the years I've spent here, hidden in my room, do you think I never noticed how thieves enter the garden? I shall go out the same way."

His father shook his hand. "Good luck."

Adam bowed and returned to his room to prepare his disguise. He pulled down every large garment in his closet and stared at them all in dismay.

"Thought you might need some help." Michael stood in the doorway with a roll of cloth in his arms. Unfurling it, he revealed a plain brown robe, such as a monk might wear. "You can wear my boots." He set them down. He was already in his stockings. You're sure about this?"

"Yes." Adam pulled the robe on over his torn clothes. "Thank you."

"I'll follow behind," Michael said.

"I'll be fine."

"Wasn't asking you."

Adam conceded. With his plan in place, he marched outside, moving silently past his parents and friends, who had lined up to send him on his way. Brad tried to talk him out of it, crowding close behind until Adam had turned to shoot him a glare. As with every other occasion he'd done so, it didn't work, and Brad talked even faster until Allison, sniffling, told him to shut up and that what Adam was doing was "romantic" . 

In the garden, Adam took a moment to let his eyes adjust. He couldn't risk using a lantern. Michael took the horses, and they each rode one to the place where the ground took a gentle slope up the wall. Michael signaled good luck to him, and Adam dismounted. Lifting his robe, he jogged as fast as he could upwards, trying to get enough energy to launch himself over the wall. He gained it, and realized as he leapt over the top that he hadn't anticipated the drop. His legs buckled when he landed on the cobblestone and he crumpled to a heap with the wind knocked out of him. After several horrifying seconds when he contemplated the real possibility of dying in that spot or of drawing attention from the crowd still gathered a few meters away, he was able to stand again. He staggered across the road and down a side street where he could hide from passersby behind a row of shrubbery. He pulled his hood over his head and stood up. He couldn't risk staying in one spot.

He started down the hill, regulating his pace to a quick walk, such as he often saw monks assume. He neared the bottom of the street when another, more important, observation presented itself: he had no idea where to find Kris, and he was in no position to knock on doors.

What had he done? He'd never make it over the castle walls again, and he'd left without a key to the door. He prayed that Michael had followed close enough behind to catch him. If not, Adam might have signed his own death warrant through his foolish, lovestruck action.

#

Kris raced to the castle. He pounded on the door, but no one came to answer it. Stepping backwards, he examined the wall. The last time he'd scaled it, he'd almost killed himself. Grabbing hold, he made a fresh attempt. At that moment, someone grabbed him and hauled him backwards. He found himself surrounded by people with signs, some red-faced and others looking as stunned as Kris felt. They stared in silence at each other, then the people began to cheer.

"He's escaped!"

"Did you see him climb the wall!"

Strong hands pulled him upright and brushed him off, as if he were covered in dirt. He knocked them away. "I was going in, not coming out."

The praise stopped and the faces became hostile. Kris attempted to back away, but they surrounded him on three sides and on the forth stood the castle wall. 

"What?" A severe girl spoke. She leaned on a picket sign that said, "Free Kris Now."

"I... assume you're all here because you heard that the prince is a monster?"

General notes of assent.

"I can tell you," Kris proceeded with eagerness, "that he is a wonderful person who has struck a witch's nerve. She cursed his body, not his mind! I promise you, he is nothing to fear!"

Looks of uncertainty passed between them. Kris waited, praying his words would have the effect he needed. "Look, I can tell you as much as I know if that will help."

"I think it would." The girl stepped forward again, this time using her sign as a shield to push him backwards, as if he were another enemy. "Start talking."

Gulping, Kris began by explaining why he'd climbed the castle wall for fennel. As he spoke, he glanced at the wall and saw a dark figure leap over it. He turned his gaze away and hoped no one else had seen. The figure didn't reappear for a full minute as Kris continued his narrative to that first mysterious meeting with the man he'd then known as Mitchel, the prince's second. But as he reached the moment of his first time playing the guitar for Mitchel, he saw the figure run down Pentifor Lane and knew that he had to hurry. That lane opened upon the sundial, as they called the array of streets that met there, creating rays like the sun. If he lost Adam there, with Adam scared and confused, as surely he must be, Kris dreaded what would happen.

#

Sir Michael rounded the bend and saw the protesters. From horseback, he had the vantage point to see over their heads, and there in the center he spotted Kris. Kris held his arms up, trying to ward them off. Michael galloped forward, forcing them to scatter. Grabbing Kris by the arm, he hoisted him up.

"He's being kidnapped! After them!" The cries rose behind them and the mob turned its attention to Michael's escape. Kris clung to his waist.

"I was talking to them!" he shouted. "I almost had them on my side and you've ruined it!"

Michael ignored him. He'd seen enough of human nature to know the expressions he'd glimpsed were not those of understanding or compassion. "The prince went looking for you."

"He went that way." Kris pointed down one of the lanes. Turning, Michael urged the horse onwards. At the base of the lane, they had no view of Prince Adam. He halted the horse at the center of the sundial and examined their many options.

"I knew this would happen," Kris said. He loosened his grip around Michael's waist. "He could be anywhere. I'm going to kill Daniel."

"We'll find him."

"We should separate."

"Not as long as you have that mob after you."

"The mob that's trying to _save_ me? From you?" Kris smiled. The mob descended the hill. In another three minutes, they'd be upon them. Kris slid to the ground. "I'll start with the northern streets. You take the southern and we'll meet back here."

Seeing no flaw in the idea, Michael nodded. He waited until Kris had gone on his way. Instead of moving, he turned to face the protesters. He held up his hand for them to stop, but they poured forward with their signs, brandishing them until his horse reared up. Gaining control of it, he yelled at them to clear away. He knocked someone in the head to make space and, choosing a path without thought, spurred the horse up it. He breathed a sigh of relief upon noticing that most of the mob had chosen to follow him.

#

_Bella Rosa._ That was Kris's restaurant. Now, if Adam could only find it, he might have some hope of safety, or at least of finding Kris. His legs throbbed from his landing. He walked gingerly, but he didn't think he'd sprained anything. This was nothing like the horrible pain when he'd turned his ankle during a game of hide and seek as a child. He'd ordered the child chasing him executed and had been incorrigible when his father had refused _and_ given the boy a chocolate after seeing that he cried more than Adam. What a child he'd been!

After reaching the sundial, he'd run without thinking up another path. They all looked the same--houses and stores in even rows, but he had no time to consider his move. The street lamps stole some of his anonymity. He gained a few stares from people randomly in their yards or browsing the still-open shops. Monks were a rare sight in town as the main monastery was a hundred miles south. They normally came only on the feast days, which Adam watched from his window. He slowed. Wait. He watched from his window? He should be able to map the town if he only used his memory. But that wouldn't matter if he didn't know where Kris's restaurant was. 

He'd have to ask.

Glancing back the way he'd come, he sized up his possibilities. An old woman with a satchel of apples. He knew enough of history to avoid such a person. The last thing he needed was a sleeping curse. A man making a marionette dance. On closer look, the little wooden boy had no strings. He started towards the man, but hesitated. He had an inherent trust for the man, but not for the toy. Three pleasant looking old women argued among themselves, and behind them a beautiful woman's dress changed from one color to another. Adam turned around. He'd find someone else. As he neared the top of the line, a soft cough grabbed his attention and he turned to see a small child with her hand outstretched. 

"Buy a match, sir?"

He patted his robes, but he never carried money. "I'm sorry. I haven't any money. But I wonder if you could tell me how to find the restaurant called Bella Rosa?"

She pointed, her large eyes brimming with cool tears. A ragged blanket served as her shawl. Adam longed to strip off his robe and give it to her, but he didn't dare. He crouched down, keeping the hood over his face. "Thank you for your help. I promise it will return to you."

He reached the top of the lane and, to the left, he saw the restaurant. It was dark. Going closer, he noticed a sign hung in the door. 

_Closed for family reasons._

He had no trouble imagining those reasons. Circling to the back, he tried the door. It was locked. However, a window in a house next door showed a light. Could he be so lucky as to have Mrs. Allen live next door? 

Going over, he knocked. Instead of Mrs. Allen, a young man opened the door. His eyes widened, and before Adam could take in his bald head, the man grabbed Adam and hauled him inside. "Get in here." Adam forced himself free and glared. As much as he mocked Lord Brad's attempts to force him to act royal, he didn't appreciate anyone handling him. 

"I'm Kris's brother. Daniel. You're Prince Adam."

Adam pulled his hood off. He raised his chin and stared at Daniel, who he was glad to see shook with his nerves. He never expected to find the person who had exposed him, but now that he had, it made him want to show his power.

"I didn't know what would happen," Daniel said.

"You're lying."

"I didn't know how Kris felt about you. I thought he was being coerced. Will you sit down?" Adam took a seat. Daniel shakily poured tea. "So, now what?" he asked.

"You're asking me?" Adam said. "How should I know? I left the castle to find Kris and realized I didn't know where to look once I was out."

"You don't have a phone?"

Adam pulled his pride together in the face of Daniel's disbelief. "We're not big on technology."

"I'll call Kris." Daniel stepped away, leaving Adam alone. He glanced at the window to check for people on the street, but all was quiet. What had he been thinking, running away? Kris would be fine. His throat tightened with worry. Daniel returned a moment later.

"I'm sorry."

"Did something happen to Kris?" Adam rose in alarm.

"No. He's on his way. I mean I'm sorry for what I did. I'm not very good at thinking before I act. I saw you and--"

"And you assumed I was a monster blackmailing your brother into marrying me. You thought I'd put a spell on him."

"Yeah. So. I'm sorry."

Adam returned to his original question. "So what happens now?"

"I have no clue."

By the time Kris arrived, Adam had made a decision. With Kris tight in his arms, he said, "I want to return to the castle. I want to make a statement to the public. I suppose it's time they met their prince."

Kris clutched Adam's hand. "I'll be with you. Every step of the way."

#

"I don't see how this situation could have gone any worse." King Eber paced with his hands clasped behind his back. In front of him, Adam, Kris, Daniel and Sir Michael stood in a row. Kris and Daniel shifted uncomfortably. Sir Michael held a bandage to his bleeding head. On their way to the castle, Kris and Daniel had saved him from a mob and then all three had in turn saved Adam after someone spotted him.

"I want to speak to them, Father," Adam said. Kris was starting to think that was a bad idea, but he didn't say anything. As His Majesty had said, things were as bad as could be now.

"I think you should. We will travel to the palace tomorrow. You will give the address from there. You can go." If Adam thought it odd to be dismissed from his own office, he didn't say anything. He simply filed out. In the hall, he grabbed Kris's hand. 

"I can do this, right?"

"I believe in you," Kris said.

Adam looked off, thinking. "I imagine we'll take the carriages. The public will have their first look at me." He grimaced. "I guess I have to get used to it." Turning back to Kris, he said, "I couldn't look at myself until you loved me. You showed me I'm more than a monster."

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover," Kris said.

"A book? What's that?" Grinning, Adam tugged Kris towards his quarters. "Come on. I have an idea to get my mind off this."

In Adam's bedroom, he lifted his robe off. His tunic hung in tatters, exposing his green chest and the dark green nubs of his nipples. Kris touched, dragging his fingers through Adam's chest hair. "Can't believe you were almost naked under there and I didn't know."

Adam kissed his ear. "If you think an open shirt is almost naked, I have something to teach you." One-handed, he opened Kris's jeans and shoved his hand inside to cup Kris's hardening cock. Kris rocked into his hand. 

"Teach away."

They separated at speed when a sharp knock sounded at the door and the queen's voice followed asking entry. Kris adjusted his clothes, while Adam discarded his top. "Come!"

Kris shuddered as his body interpreted the order in a different way. Fortunately, he was not so far gone as to ejaculate on command, so he had no embarrassment when Her Majesty entered. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, directing her question to Adam.

"No, but I can't hide anymore. That option is gone. I have to speak."

"All right." She kissed Adam's cheek. "I'm proud of you."

After she left, Kris returned to Adam's arms, but Adam gently pushed him away. "I'd better work on my speech."

"Right." Kris stepped back. "I'll go see what Daniel's doing."

Adam grinned. "He's probably getting pummeled by someone."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I wanted to be the one to do it." Kris rushed out.

#

Three carriages left the castle grounds in the small hours of the morning. Two had come from the palace, which held the king and queen, and the third was from the castle's collection. It had not been used since Adam closed the doors on the castle, but after Sir Michael had spent the night burnishing it, it looked like new. Sir Michael rode on his horse, plodding slowly behind the caravan and trying to stay awake. It was easier once they were on the road. He scanned for threats. Prince Adam and Kris rode together inside the third carriage with Lord Brad and Allison sitting on top. Lord Brad had barked against the violation of protocol, but he hadn't known how to drive a horse and Allison did.

As word grew that the royal carriages were in procession, people began lining the streets. As the town's border approached, the crowd became so thick that the king emerged from his carriage to wave. Great cheers rose up. Shouts for "Adam" followed, but that carriage door remained closed. Finally, the crowd parted to allow them passage out of the city. 

Michael released a held breath. He remained vigilant as he rode forward.

#

Adam sat with his eyes closed, measuring his breaths as the crowd shouted. Kris sat beside him, silent. Did they sound angry? They'd cheered for his father but, for him, he remembered the missiles that had been lobbed over the castle wall. He could easily fall victim to one. He opened his eyes to take in Kris's tense expression. They relaxed only when the carriage moved again.

#

Adam stood on the palace balcony looking out on the masses gathered on the plaza beneath. Those who couldn't fit spilled into the surrounding royal park land. "I think everyone in the kingdom is here." He shouted at Kris, but it could have been a whisper as Kris had to lean close to hear him.

"Are you surprised?" Kris shouted back. "Everyone wants to see you!"

On the road to the palace, word had spread. At each town, crowds greeted the royal carriages. They rode through without stopping. Adam kept his cloak around him at first, but he stared out the windows at all the people. Many waved flags and shouted his name. They didn't seem angry. Some cried. Gradually Adam's grip on his cloak loosened and he let his hood slip from his face. 

When they reached the palace, Prince Neil greeted them and threw his arms around Adam. "Missed you, man," he said, before shaking Kris's hand.

"You aren't upset that I'm stepping back into the royal line?" Adam asked.

"You never left it," Neil said. "I always knew you'd come back." He smiled. "Glad you did."

"Me too."

Then Dame Susan, head of the palace's public relations, requested that the royal family and Kris assemble on the balcony, where Adam now stared in wonder at the gathered masses.

"They love you," Kris said, tugging on his sleeve.

"Do you think we've convinced them I didn't kidnap you?" Adam asked.

Kris kissed him. A roar of approval rose up from below. "Daniel's retraction on Twitter helped."

"Ready?" The king put his arm around Adam and nodded toward the microphones that were centered on the edge of the balcony, waiting for Adam to step up and speak.

"Yes," Adam said.

King Eber approached the microphones. He silenced the crowds with his raised hand. "My people, today the Queen and I welcome home our son, Prince Adam. These have been a trying ten years without him. We cannot begin to express our joy at having him in our lives once more."

The crowd applauded, but it died down quickly. The anxiousness with which they awaited Adam was palpable. Squeezing Kris's hand, Adam stepped up.

"My friends." The microphone crackled. He coughed nervously and stepped back. "My friends." This time the sound came true. "Ten years ago, I was cursed by a witch. The reason was simple. I wasn't satisfied with who I am. I know how selfish that must sound to you, that I, a royal prince, would have doubts about myself, but the truth is, I've never viewed myself as anyone special. In many ways, I am like you, and doubting myself is one of the foremost. 

"After the witch cursed me, I became despondent and angry. I pushed my family away. I pushed you away. This was wrong, but in my despair I couldn't see this. I believed the witch turned me into a monster. It took the man standing here, Kris Allen, to show me that I was not a hideous creature. He showed me I deserved love." Adam glanced at Kris, who gave him a supportive smile. He gave the crowd a shy wave. Turning back to the microphone, Adam continued. "We intend to marry. We ask for your blessing on our union."

The crowd cheered. That had been his father's idea. An olive branch, he'd called it. Adam looked at Kris with relief that the response was positive. Raising his hand, he silenced the crowd.

"I have learned much in these past few days. I no longer look at myself with horror. I see myself as a man again, as someone who I can love." He paused. The masses below him waited in silence. They emitted almost a comforting pulse. "A man who I do love." He blinked away unexpected emotion. This was the first time he'd said as much out loud. "I return to you today as a changed person. Some of you knew the rambunctious child I used to be, but few of you knew the doubts I harbored as I grew into my teens. We have no way to break this curse, but I no longer despair. I accept myself as I am."

The crowd made a sudden noise, which quickly settled. Adam couldn't identify the emotion. It rattled him, but he continued his speech. "I am grateful for what I have, and in the coming days and years, I pledge to commit myself to you, in whatever capacity you need me." The crowd made its noise again.

"Adam?" Kris called to him. Adam glanced over and, seeing Kris staring at him with wide eyes, reached out to squeeze his hand before he continued. It had to be difficult for Kris to watch him bare his soul like this. Kris spoke, but the crowd shouted and Adam didn't hear him.

"I am certain royal duties will be in my future, but I will leave that for the King and Queen to decide. I don't know when I will be given the opportunity to speak with you again, so I will conclude with this: I'm sorry and thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me, for believing in me. I was privileged to encounter many of you today on the journey here, and my heart swells when I think of the positive moments I witnessed. I had no idea of your love. As I pair that with the acceptance I now have for myself, I am privileged to be in front of you today. Thank you."

Waving, he stepped away from the microphone. He held his arms out to Kris, but instead of flying into his embrace, Kris took his hands and stared through tear-filled eyes at Adam's face. 

"Kris? What's wrong?'

"You--you're--"

"What?"

"Changed," Kris choked. He closed the embrace and squeezed Adam tightly. "You're changed."

"I didn't think it was that good of a spee--" Adam's words dropped off as he looked out at the crowd and saw them staring in silence. He stared back, holding onto Kris as fear built in him. He planted his feet and fought the urge to run. Suddenly his parents had joined the embrace. "Can someone tell me what's going on?" Adam's worry intensified. 

"Inside," the king said. 

They moved off the balcony. Lord Brad, who had waited with other members of the royal staff in the room that led to the balcony, held out a mirror. He was crying, too.

Adam stared at the pale, freckled face in the glass. "Is that... me?"

"Yes," Lord Brad said. "It's you. The curse is broken."

Adam took the mirror and touched his face. His fingers showed in the mirror. "I don't understand."

"You accepted yourself," Kris said. "That had to be it. That's what broke the curse. It wasn't love from someone else. It was love for yourself."

"Well, that's a twist," Adam said. He couldn't stop staring at himself.

"I don't think he's going to put the mirror down," Lord Brad said.

"I've got an idea," Kris said. Adam didn't think anything would make him stop staring at his face, but then Kris whispered, "Let's go see what you look like naked."

Adam shoved the mirror at Brad. "Kris wants to find a full-length mirror." Ignoring Brad's groans and his parents' laughter, he grabbed Kris's hand and tugged him towards the door. Pausing, he turned to his parents. "My bedroom?"

"Is in the same place," the queen said.

"Don't be late for dinner," the king said.

Laughing, Adam and Kris raced down the hall.

#

Kris lay in bed, naked, with the sheet pulled up to his hips. Adam was naked too, standing in front of the mirror. "How long are you going to preen?" He smiled as he said it, thrilled with seeing Adam so happy.

Adam turned, beaming, and spread his arms. Kris's gaze traveled to his cock, flaccid after their activities, and back up to Adam's face. "I need another ten minutes before I'm ready to go again, so at least that long."

"You know--" Kris crawled to the end of the bed, leaving the sheet behind, "I'm ready now." Sitting on his heels, he displayed his hard length. 

"Are you saying...?" Adam's hand wandered absently to his ass. "We switch?"

"If you want to?"

Adam dove onto the bed and tackled Kris. "Let's do it."

Laughing, Kris reached for the lube he'd brought with him (as if he'd go to the royal palace unprepared!). Adam rolled off him and shoved a pillow under his hips.

Epilogue

Kris, Duke of Lambertia (phonetically: lam-ber-sha), who the people affectionately called Prince Kris, hurried down the cobblestone street next to the castle wall with his guitar on his back.

"Prince Adam to dedicate new museum!" A newsboy yelled as he waved a paper.

Kris paused at the castle door. He looked up and let the sun shine down on his face. Then, pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. His horse grazed a short distance away. It came at his whistle.

Kris hopped on and rode the path up to the castle. The staff of gardeners waved as he went past. At the castle, Allison now oversaw three helpers. The cat population had tripled as well. Allison paused to kiss his cheek before ushering him out.

"He's waiting," she said, and swooped past to take the pot of water she held to the stove.

Grinning, Kris hurried through the castle, running by the time he reached the piano room. There, he rushed inside. Removing his guitar, he sat down next to Adam.

"I was getting worried," Adam said. "She didn't want to start without you."

"Sorry. I came as fast as I could. I had to run over to the restaurant after I opened the music school."

"How's the restaurant?"

"Packed as usual. Daniel hired two new servers." Kris stopped talking as Naya climbed up on the piano bench. He reached for Adam's hand. Naya's legs swung, her feet too short to touch the floor.

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," she announced, just as Kris had taught her. Then, in a move that proved she was Adam's daughter as well, turned to her audience to give a big grin before she began to play. 

The playing wasn't perfect, but the little girl at the piano was. Magic had given Adam and Kris a baby girl a year into their marriage, to the combined joy of their families and the entire country. She was the ideal mix of Adam and Kris. Finishing the song, she climbed off the bench and ran into Adam and Kris's arms.

"Thank you for the private concert, sweetie," Kris said.

"Do you think Gran and Gramp will like it?"

"They'll love it!" Kris said. He glanced at the door, where Lord Brad stood with his clipboard, waiting to rush Adam to his next duty. Brad had a full staff to manage now, but he still found time to keep Adam on his toes. Sighing, Adam kissed Naya's head and squeezed Kris’s hand before leaving. Kris picked Naya up.

"Want to play with me?"

"Sure, Papa!" Naya scrambled down. Kris sat at the piano and waited until Naya climbed up next to him. He positioned his hands.

"This is the first song I taught Daddy." He began to play. Halfway through, he glanced up and saw Adam in the doorway smiling at him. He smiled back. 

His fingers didn't skip a beat.

His heart did.

End


End file.
